The Other Me
by Star-GoddessZ
Summary: Malik is hearing a voice coming from the rod again. Terrified, he throws it in an alleyway, where a certain brown haried, blue eyed millionaire finds it and takes it home. His life then changes forever. Chapter nine is up.
1. Him

**Well, I told you I'd post another one! **

This was actually a dream I had—Hope you like!

**REVIEW!

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_"Hehehehe. . .HAHAHAHAH!"_

Malik gasped and shot up, his bed sheets falling to the floor in his panic. He jumped up and ran to one side of his room, where the light switch was. He flicked it on, and his small room was washed in dull, yellow light. His frightened lavender eyes scanned the scene before them; searching for anything that could have made that sound.

There was no one there.

Malik relaxed, brushing perspiration of his forehead in relief. It must have been his imagination. He looked over to his bedside table, where a small, digital clock rested. He read the time:

**1:00 A.M.**

Bleck.

He was not a morning person. He flipped the light back off, and clambered back into his bed, pulling the blankets with him. He curled up, laying his head on the pillow. He slowly closed his eyes and. . .

_"Hehehehe. . . HAHAHAHAHA!"_

This time, it startled Malik so much he fell off the bed; tangled in his blankets. Struggling to get un-tangled, he got up from the floor and backed away from his bed. Instead of disappearing like the last time, the laughter grew louder.

_"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"_

That was it. The last load on the camel's back.

He screamed.

* * *

Isis Ishtal was sleeping peacefully; dreaming of a certain blue-eyed millionaire when a loud, piercing scream ricocheted off the walls of her small room.

**"AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!"**

She woke with a start, adrenaline allowing her to wake fully and let her mind work normally; instead of groggily. Her eyes grew wide as the scream alerted her mind that something was wrong—

With Malik.

She rushed out her doors and down the hall, to where her younger brother slept. As she had suspected, the screams were coming from within. She pounded in the doors.

"Malik! I'm coming!" She yelled as she charged through the doors; ready to face anyone that dare hurt her brother. Instead of finding an 'enemy,' she found her little brother scrunched up in a corner, crouching low and covering his ears with his hands. Except for his screams, there was no sound; nothing threatening leaning over him.

She relaxed, and walked carefully up to him. He was still screaming.

"Make it stop! STOP IT! LEAVE ME ALONE!" He was screaming this over and over again, his eyes shut tight and his ears still covered. Isis gently touched him on the arm. Immediately, he opened his eyes and stopped screaming.

"My brother, what troubles you? Did you have a nightmare?" She asked him gently, helping him up. He stood rather shakily.

"I-I d-don't k-k-know. I c-could ha-have," he hiccupped, making a smile come to Isis's face. Her smile faltered, however, when she saw the wet trail left on his cheeks from his tears.

Her brother had cried.

She couldn't remember the last time he cried. Something awful must have been in his thoughts when he had the dream.

"What was the nightmare about?" she asked him, sitting him down on his bed. He stared up at her; his lavender eyes hauntingly wide. She was taken aback, just a bit. She regained her composure.

"It wasn't a dream, sister. I was awake when it happened," he said, lowering his head and shaking. It couldn't be true; it couldn't be. Not when he had his life back and was truly happy. He had friends, family, an education, and a house (not hole.) There was no way he could be back.

"When. . .WHAT happened, brother?" She asked him, almost afraid of the answer. He stared up at her, eyes hauntingly wide again.

"Him. Heard him laughing. He's come back for me! For the rod! And he knows I know! He was laughing at me! Isis, what do I do?" Malik panicked, tears rolling down his cheeks. Isis grew pale. It was as she suspected.

Yami Marik was back.

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**Whaddaya think? Is it okay? **

I like it. Don't worry—the better part's next chapter.

If this is your first time reading one of my fics, then I have a message  
for you.

READ ANOTHER ONE! Pretty please. There's only one more. (Unless you're reading this in the future, and I've posted more. Then you can readmore that one! )

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	2. A HOSPITAL?

**Do you's all remember when I said I wasn't going to do chapter two until I finished my first story?**

**Never mind.**

**I had a good idea, and decided to write it down before I forgot it.**

**I don't own Yu-Gi-oh, although the world would be a better place if I did.**

**Chapter Two**

Malik sat heavily down at the kitchen table, letting his head hit the wood with a 'thud.' He breathed out a sigh, and closed his eyes.

He hadn't slept a single second since the laughter had woken him in the middle of the night. Sure, he'd moved into his sister's room, and sure, he'd kept the hallway light on, but it still wasn't enough. Every time he closed his eyes, he could hear the same sinister laughter that had echoed around his mind the night before. And what scared Malik the most was the fact he found the voice quite recognizable—he feared the worst. But, he had a plan. He would not let what happened two years ago happen again. He would not be led astray by any evil forces ever again, at least in this lifetime. No, he would dispose of the evil before it even had the chance to speak two words to him. To destroy the evil you had to destroy the source; that meant he would be disposing of the Millennium Rod.

His sister walked in the room, and saw Malik's head resting on the kitchen table. Her eyebrows rose for a second, then the ends descended down in a steep slant, giving her brother a very sympathetic look.

"Are you tired, my dear brother?" She asked him, and he jumped. He raised his head and looked at her with slightly startled eyes. "Sorry. I did not mean to startle you," she said apologetically, whisking over to his side and placing a hand on his shoulder. He brushed her off him.

"It's fine," he said simply, standing up and walking away from her, towards the fridge. She seemed slightly disheartened by this gesture, but shook it off.

"Yes, eat. Perhaps that might wake you fully. Do not forget that today you start school here; with Jounouchi, Honda, Anzu, and the Pharaoh," she reminded him, and he jumped up again.

"Oh, Ra! You're right! I completely forgot," he admitted, running off to his room to change into his newly acquired Domino High School uniform. His sister sighed.

_ I hope my brother will be alright, _she said to herself, as she made breakfast for the two.

**Earlier that morning; 4:30 A.M.**

Seto Kaiba woke with a start, almost poking his eye out with the pen that was lying quite close to his face, in the hand that still clutched it. He raised his head sleepily off of—off of whatever it was he was on—and looked around.

It seemed he had fallen asleep doing company work again, and was still in his office.

He rubbed his eyes, coughed, and started to get up from the chair, but it had slipped so far away from the desk, that all he succeeded in doing was slipping sideways off the chair and landing hard on the floor. The chair fell on top of him.

He got up so fast; the chair was launched off of him, and landed several feet away, spinning on its side. Seto looked in all directions, making sure no one had seen that embarrassing picture, and only when he assured himself that no one had, he picked up the chair; placing it in the correct spot.

He stretched, getting all the kinks out of his back. He coughed again. Ugh, he didn't feel good. Instead of feeling refreshed, like he usually did when he woke up in the morning, he felt sluggish; unmotivated. He had been feeling like this all week. . .He walked out of his office and out into the main hall, which was basically was a decorative room with tons of doors leading to the other rooms, and a grand staircase that connected the first level with the second, third, and fourth floors. He headed towards the staircase; the heels of his dress-shoes clacking against the hard-wood floor. (He had fallen asleep in the clothes he was wearing the previous day, and Kaiba is not one to kick off his shoes while doing company work. :D Heh. Funny picture, though. . .) He started up the stairs; heading for the third floor where his bedroom was located. He felt he could barely keep his eyes open, let alone walk up forty-six stairs. However, he overpowered the urge to sleep, (A/N he could just make himself a cup of coffee, later) and when he arrived to his bedroom, he showered, changed into his Domino uniform, and preformed other tasks in his morning routine. As he left his room and the third floor, he knocked briskly on his brother's door, letting him know it was time to wake up.

He went downstairs, made himself a cup of coffee, (A/N what did I tell you? :P) and started to read the paper, taking sips from his mug between pages. His brother sleepily shuffled down, still in his cloud-print pajamas. He got a quick bowl of cereal, and sat down opposite his brother. Seto did not look up from his newspaper.

Silence.

There were no noises, other than Mokuba's occasional slurp, and the newspaper's pages ruffling. When Mokuba could stand it no longer, he spoke up.

"Well. Um. . .uh. . .let's see, uh. . .oh! Did I tell you I got an A on the science exam last week?" Mokuba asked excitedly.

"Yes. Seven times. Once per day," Kaiba reminded him, but soon corrected himself. "Eight times. I forgot two seconds ago," He finished. He still hadn't looked up from the newspaper.

Mokuba laughed, but his laughter soon subsided as he noticed how unusually flushed his brother's face looked. Usually his face was so pale, but today. . .

"Are. . .you feeling okay, big brother?" Mokuba asked, in a worried tone. His brother gave him a strange look.

"Yes. . .Why would you ask that? I am perfectly fine," Seto stated, and went back to his newspaper. True, he felt strangely worn out, even though the day had yet to start, and a little warm, but he wasn't going to tell Mokuba that. Mokuba seemed to be reassured, and smiled again.

"Okay. I'm going to get dressed now, I'll be down in ten," Mokuba called, running up the stairs. When he was gone, Seto sighed a breath of relief and hunched over, putting his head in his hands. God, he was tired. He picked up his newspaper and left the kitchen, heading towards his office, which was across the hall. He had to go slowly, as he was feeling very light-headed—but by the time he got halfway to his office, the entire hall started to spin.

Whoa.

Everything's moving. Or maybe, he was moving. God, he was dizzy. He tried to keep going, every time he moved, things spun ten times faster.

He heard his brother on the top of the stairs, calling out his name. But he sounded so distant—his ears had begun to ring. They were ringing very loudly, annoying him. _Stop it. Stop it right now; you're giving me a headache._ Seto told his ears, but for some reason, they weren't listening. (A/N HA! Ears; listening? HA! That's funny )

Things began to spin faster, even though he wasn't moving, and he soon was unable to remain standing. His knees buckled, and he collapsed on the floor. He heard, form miles and miles away, his brother scream out his name, but before everything went black, one thought managed to float across his darkening mind:

Crap.

**Downtown Domino: 7:48 A.M.**

Malik stood at the end of an alleyway, breathing heavily and holding the Millennium Rod in an outstretched arm. He looked down at the rod, staring at his reflection in its flawless golden surface, and his feelings were mixed. One half of him was telling him that he could not give up the rod; it was a family heirloom, and he could not dishonor his family's duty of watching over the Millennium Rod and Tauk. However, he was deeply afraid of his other half; his darker side—Marik. Those two feelings were feuding with each other, and Malik was waiting for a victor to be chosen. Finally, he knew that he could not dispose of the Rod, that it would dishonor his family and his Pharaoh if he tossed it. He sighed, and was about to put it away when:

"_Hehehe. . .HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!"_

Malik chucked the Rod so fast and so far that a few seconds had passed before he heard the hard clatter of metal on stone, sounding distant, but echoing off the walls of the alleyway. Malik himself took off running down the street, never looking back once.

Only when he had put several blocks between him and the rod did Malik stop, hunching over to catch his breath. His clothes were all rumpled up, his hair was a mess, and his eyes were still wide with fear. When he had regained his breath, he calmed down, and tried to straighten his clothes again. He ran his fingers through his thick, sandy-colored hair, and slung his schoolbag over his shoulder.

He had only gone a couple paces, when there was a gasp behind him, and someone uttered a small cry.

"Malik?!"

Malik turned around upon hearing his name, only to come face-to face—well, face-to-the top of really tall hair—with Yugi Mutou. Around him were Jounouchi, Honda, Anzu, and Bakura, all looking wide-eyed at him. All except Bakura, who looked overjoyed to see him.

"Malik, Whaddaya doin' here?" Jounouchi asked in surprise, although he didn't cover up the slight sharpness in his voice. Jou didn't like Malik that much, but Malik didn't blame him, so he ignored the rudeness. Instead, he bowed formally to Jou and the rest. Jounouchi looked a little startled at this gesture.

"Hello Jounouchi. Honda, Anzu, Pharaoh," he greeted, bowing to each one accordingly. "I, my brother, and my sister have recently purchased a small apartment in Domino, where we have come to live as permanent residents in Domino, as well as permanent citizens in Japan. My brother has recently obtained a job as adoctor in Domino, and my sister has her museum here too, as you well know. I myself have come to get an education, since I was deprived of one when a small child; for reasons known and left unmentioned," Malik explained. Yugi and Bakura smiled, but Jounouchi still looked wary.

"I see," said Anzu heavily, and Malik was disheartened. He turned from the group.

"I understand that I will never gain your trust, but I understand that, and cannot blame you. Let it be known, then, that I shall stay away from you, at your will, and shall not interfere with anything here if you wish it not so. All I can ask; all I have the right to ask, is to get a little respect whilst I am here; for I only wish to get an education; to give myself a chance in the world when I come of age. Can you do for me that?" Malik said, surprised at how formal his talk was. He sounded like his sister. In fact, the whole speech he just gave sounded like something his sister would say.

Honda, Anzu, and Jounouchi nodded. "Yeah, I guess. Just keep that rod **away** from me, ya hear?" Jounouchi said sternly, moving a few inches away from Malik as he spoke. There was an ascent of agreement between the three. Malik was dispirited further, and bowed his head.

"I no longer have it. I have disposed of it for this reason, and plead that you be comforted by this fact. I have nothing left to say. I shall see you later," Malik said, and started to walk away. But, he soon turned back. He remembered Jou, Honda, and Anzu. "Er, no. I won't see you later, will I? Well, in that case, good-bye." He left. Bakura hesitated, looking from the group to Malik's retreating back, and to the group again, before following after his friend.Anzu, Jou, and Honda looked at Bakura with a look that clearly said, "Why the heck are you following that madman?"BeforeBakura turned the corner, however, he looked back at the group and gave them the best look of disgust and hatred he could muster. He then disappeared. Yugi turned to the trio beside him, looking angrily up at them.

"You know, it's amazing how Bakura's one look seemed to sum up all my feelings towards you lot right now," he said angrily, and stalked off, leaving the three alone.

"What?" Asked Anzu blankly. "Was it something we said?"

**Just around the bend. . . .**

Malik sighed as he walked along, shuffling the ground with his feet. He felt upset after the 'welcome' he had received. But, seriously, what had he expected? A welcoming committee and a **band?** _I think not,_ he said to himself. His brain registered the fact that he would and could never be part of 'the gang,' but his heart simply wouldn't accept it. Whether he admitted it aloud or not didn't matter; the point was he was lonely.

Back in Egypt, he was avoided by everyone there; him and his family. Never being introduced to the real world, and spending his entire childhood reading about the ancient ones, he really didn't have the time to catch up in the modern world. He was definitely different—all the kids his age wore faded t-shirts and shorts; he wore expensive cargo pants and muscle shirts. All the people in Egypt had black or dark brown hair, always in some sort of head-covering; Malik had light-colored, messy hair that was always out in the open. He didn't feel hats (or turbans) suited him. But, the characteristic that frightened the people the most were his brilliant lavender eyes. Since they had never seen eyes that color, they figured it was some bad omen, and avoided him.

Well, that, and he was a reckless motorcyclist, a bad influence, and a little weird.

"Weird? You're a little weird? I think you mean, you're a little deranged psychopath,' said a coarse voice behind him. Malik whipped around, about to fight anyone who dared call him those names, but he put his fists down, however, as he saw Bakura, arms crossed, leaning against the wall. Correction: Yami Bakura.

"Akefia, you scared me," said Malik, walking towards him. (A/N Well, I originally had the name as Nahkti, but one of my reviews KINDLY told me that that wasn't right. He/she told me it was Akefia, and since I have no real idea what I'm doing, I'll go with that one. I read it on a site or two that Nahkti was Bakura's Egyptian name, and even though it's prettier than Akefia, I suppose the truth (if it **is**the truth.No offence—I just don't know) is better than a pretty lie. Ah well. Danke, Zapper133, for cough**NICELY**cough telling me what it was.)

Bakura scowled. "Don't call me that—I hate that name. It's Bakura. Just Bakura," Bakura instructed. Malik rolled his eyes.

"Duh. I know you hate it. Are you forgetting who grew up with you? I said it BECAUSE you hate it," Malik grinned, and Bakura grinned too.

"It's nice to have a fellow psychopath on the block," Bakura added, and both laughed. "Welcome to the neighborhood."

"Thanks. At least I know I'm not alone; that I'll have someone to talk to, someone to go on _chaos-spreading killing sprees_ with me," Malik said with an evil grin. Bakura grinned back, and laughed.

"I don't mean to interrupt all this talk of killing, but can we get going? School stats in about one minute and fifty seconds," Said a deep voice behind them. They didn't even turn around as they snarled together—

"Pharaoh."

**In a very dark and gloomy bedroom in an unknown location. Well, unknown until you read the first word, anyways.**

Seto groaned as he opened his eyes, shielding them from a blinding light. Once they had gotten used to the illumination, he examined his surroundings.

He was lying in bed, with about fifteen blankets resting on top of him and a warm cloth over his forehead. Next to his bed was an armchair that had been pulled over from the corner of Seto's room, with a book lying on its arm. The book was lying face down on the furniture, so that the page would not be lost. There seemed to be no one in his room; the chair was empty.

Seto closed his eyes again, wanting to rest before the person came back and he could question them. He groaned in pain; he had a massive headache, and his forehead felt like it was being fired in a kiln. He began to cough—deep, chest-heaving coughs that stung in his throat after the cough had ended. His mouth was terribly dry, like the Sahara during the summer. (A/N Oh, poor Seto! TT) Also, there was that strange, worn-out feeling like he had run a marathon, but he was just lying there.

The door to Seto's bedroom opened quietly, and one of Seto's maids bustled in. She put a glass of water on the bedside table, and then turned to Seto. To her great surprise, Seto was staring up at her.

"AH! Oh, my good lord, you frightened me," she panted clutching her heart. She recovered, and started tending to Seto. She took the cloth off his forehead, and dipped it in fresh, cool water, and replaced it. She took a thermometer out of her pocket, and stuck it in Seto's mouth. "Under your tongue," she commanded, and Seto glared. But he did as she asked anyway. Several moments of silence passed, until there was a small beeping noise, coming from inside Seto's mouth. She took it out and read it, giving a gasp.

"What?" Seto said weakly, breaking out into a coughing fit afterwards. His maid didn't answer him—just ran out of the room. Seto was confused. What just happened?

It was ten minutes before the maid came back, looking out of breath. She went over to Seto's bed, collapsed in the armchair, and wiped the perspiration off her forehead. She looked up to Seto's bed, and started again as Seto's icy blue eyes were staring directly at her, unblinkingly.

"Jeez, you're going to give me a heart attack; knock it off, would you?" She scolded, and Seto gave her a glare. She immediately was sorry. "Ooh, I didn't mean that the way it sounded!! Please forgive me," she stuttered, bowing.

"Whatever. Just tell me—what just happened? What was the reading on the thermometer? Where did you run off to? Hell, why am I even here? What happened? I want answers, and I want them now," he ordered in a hoarse voice, trying to sit up. The pain in his head only increased double-fold when he tried, so he resolved to laying on his side, facing the armchair. The maid sighed.

"Well, I knew I couldn't keep you in the dark for very long," she said, shaking her head. "Okay. . .what just happened. . .well, to tell you why you're here, it's because you're ill. Very ill. To prove just how ill, I'll answer the thermometer question. You have a fever of one-hundred and six degrees, which is no small matter; to answer where I went, I went to the phone and called Dr. Kudo," she explained, but Seto growled. (A/N Well, tried to growl. It just ended in a cough, so. . .)

"That quack? I hate him. He's a no-good, money stealing, two-timing—"

"Now, do you really want to finish that sentence, Mr. Kaiba?"

Kaiba whipped around, (which he was immediately sorry for, as his head felt like it was being cleaved in two,) to see Dr. Kudo standing in the doorway, looking over a few papers and looking thoroughly annoyed. He kicked the maid out of the room, and became situated in the chair beside the bed. He finished looking over the papers and set them aside, putting them on the bed-side table. He folded his hands in his lap, put a ridiculous smile on his face, and stared at Seto, who stared back.

Dr. Shuchiro Kudo (Yeah, I know that name is the name of the guy in Wish, so, before I get penalized: I don't own Wish.) was a giant of a man, from his gigantic legs, to his gigantic fortune. He had short, black hair, in the style of a crew-cut; a long, square face and chin, and dull brown eyes. He was always smiling an annoying, fake smile; and the worst part was: he was the Kaiba family's doctor.

"What are-cough-staring at?-cough-cough" Seto said angrily, glaring up at the doctor.

"Why, you, Seto," Kudo said amusedly, tilting his head to one side; mocking innocence. "You're the only sick person I see here," he added.

"Whatever. Let's get this over with; I've got places to go," Seto said sturdily, but his illness let him down. He went into a big coughing fit afterwards; a coughing fit that was about the worst he'd had yet. After the last cough had been coughed, Seto felt a warm, wet substance on his fingers. Curious, he looked down, and almost threw up.

Blood.

Dr. Kudo's face became stony upon seeing the red liquid, and took up a more serious attire. He immediately grabbed his pen and notebook and scribbled something down, pausing to look up at his patient.

"Does that usually happen when you cough?" Dr Kudo asked him, still writing things down.

"N-no. This is t-the first time," Seto said weakly, trying to wipe his hand off without looking at the blood. He was feeling rathersqueamish, at the moment.

"How long have you had your cough?" Kudo continued. Seto thought for a while.

"Since a week ago," Seto replied.

Kudo wrote things down for a few more minutes, and then proceeded to analyze Seto. He got his pulse, his breathing rate, (which was abnormally heavy, as he noted) listened to his heart beat, took a throat culture, and started poking him in random places, asking if it hurt Seto. Around the abdominal area, it DID hurt—a lot. He let the doctor know by yelping in pain. After the doctor was finished with the analysis, he wrote more on his notebook, face wrought in concentration for a few minutes, and then his face became relaxed—he'd come to a conclusion.

"It's pneumonia. A really bad case of pneumonia—the worst I've seen for quite some time. You have all the symptoms: fever, chills, coughing fits, unusually rapid breathing, abdominal pain, wheezing, and throat pain. What concerns me the most, however, is the grayish-blue color of your lips and fingernails. That symptom happens in only extreme cases of the illness. Already, it's rare enough to find a case that displays ALL the symptoms—in most case, the only symptom recorded is wheezed breathing. That's why I feel it necessary to move you to a hospital; just to make sure you'll have everything you need while you recover," Dr. Kudo said, writing something down in his notebook and circling it. Seto's eyes went wide.

"A-a-a **hospital**?!" Seto cried out in shock, going into an unexpected coughing fit, spraying blood all over the white satin pillow. Dr. Kudo looked distressed.

"Yes. A hospital. And right now, if it's possible. Coughing up blood is not a symptom of pneumonia—I need to check that out with the right equipment," Kudo explained, gathering up his papers and briefcase. "I'll go inform the head maid right now, and tell her to get in contact with anyone she needs to. I will be back with an ambulance to take you to the hospital," he said, opening Seto's door.

"Wait! An ambulance is hardly necessary; I can get to the hospital on my own. Don't bother," Seto said, crossing his arms as he lay there on his now blood-soaked pillow.

"Don't be ridiculous; you can't even sit up, let alone walk to a car. You feel extreme pain when you attempt to lift your head, am I correct?" Kudo asked with a smile. Seto's mouth went open.

"How did you—" He began, but Kudo cut him off.

"That's why I'm the best," he said, walking briskly out of the room and shutting the door with a snap. Seto glared at the ceiling.

"A hospital. _Wonderful_."

**Ack! I am so mean to my Seto-kins!! I'm SORRY!! I LOOOVVEEE YYOOUU!!**

**To those of you asking, Seto getting sick and going to the hospital is completely relevant to this story. Sorry, but it HAS to happen. No going 'round it.**

**Also, I am really sorry, but I am a writer who likes to lead up into her story line. I write quite a prelude, before the REAL story begins. You should see my last story. Chapter seven was about the time the REAL story began. But, don't worry. Next chapter, first thing, the story will begin. Guarantee it.**

**Whoo! What a long chapter. Ten pages.**

**I'm too tired to write anything else. REVIEW! Or no more story.**

**HA! How am I as a motivational speaker?**


	3. Rules and Hospital Escapees

**Woo-hoo! Another chapter already! I'm on a roll!**

**Before we begin, I want to thank all the reviewers out there that reviewed so quickly for chapter two! YOU ROCK!!**

**I also want to ask just one question, to one of my reviewers.**

**WHAT THE HECK IS COMMA SPLICING? :) (Just kiddin. I'll try not to do it. Ya see, I just love, them, so, much, doesn't, everyone? , , , , , ,**

**Chapter Three**

Malik and Yami Bakura turned around to face a somewhat- annoyed Pharaoh, who grabbed them both by the collars and proceeded to drag them to the high school.

"What the hell?" Malik yelled in surprise.

"Get your filthy hands off me, you **_TYRANT!"_** Yelled Yami Bakura, struggling against Yami's firm grip.

"Then MOVE," Yami snapped, giving Bakura a shove. He landed roughly on the ground Malik followed shortly afterwards, falling on top of him. They struggled to stand, and when they did, turned to face the Pharaoh with fists raised and tempers surfacing.

"What the hell was that for," growled Malik, glaring at the star-headed ruler before him. The Pharaoh just ignored him, however, and started walking away.

He did not get three paces away from the two angry boys when a great force slammed into him, tackling him to the ground and knocking the wind from him. Yami looked up in surprise to see a more-than-just-angry tomb robber, whose fists were raised as if to strike him again. Yami cringed as they started their descent towards his jaw; this was going to hurt. Halfway there, however, they stopped. Yami Bakura turned away as he put his fists down.

"You're not worth my time," he stated as he got up and started to walk away. Malik gave Yami and Bakura a confused look, before following after his friend.

"_Okay, what just happened there?"_ Yami thought, as he picked himself off the ground. He watched the two boys leave, following soon after the last lock of white hair had disappeared around the corner. _"That was interesting."_

"Bakura! Wait!" Malik cried, racing to catch up to his friend. "What happened back there?" He asked, after he had regained his breath.

"What happened back where?" Said a light voice, dripping with innocence. A pair of soft chocolate-brown eyes turned to him.

"**AH!** Oh, Ryou! Where'd you come from?" Malik asked, recovering from his surprise. Ryou cast him a confused look.

"What do you mean? I've been here the whole time!" He stated, but then his gaze dropped. "Oh, no. _What's_ been going on?" Ryou asked in a shaky voice, almost as if he didn't want to know.

"Uh. . .nothing. Nothing at all," Malik said quickly, speeding up.

"Malik! WAIT!" Ryou cried, running after his friend, but Malik never looked back once.

**Two weeks later, in the hospital. . .**

_Dr. Kudo, please report to ward three; Dr. Kudo, please report to ward three._

He hated it here!! He hated it, he hated it, he hated it!! How can anyone stand this place for more than one day? He had already been here two weeks, (which was hardly necessary) but he had figured out in just a mere day that he HATED hospitals. No, hate is a strong word. He didn't hate hospitals. Hate wasn't strong enough a word to describe it. **UNADULTERATED LOTHING** is better. Below are the reasons for the hatred:

Everything was so white, it blinded him.

Everything smelled sterol—it was a germaphobic's personal paradise.

His bed was more like a long table, if not in looks, but in how comfortable it was.

Nurses here were supposed to be cheerful. Keywords: _supposed to_. The frickn' nurses here were downright evil, not giving a damn whether a patient died or not.

And then there was Seto's hospital room.

It was small, with absolutely nothing in it save a metal bed in the corner, and a window with (white) curtains. There was a small, drab television, but Seto didn't like T.V anyways. Nothing on the walls; nothing on the floors—and it reeked of death.

They had come for Seto, just as Dr. Kudo promised, but he seemed to have forgotten to tell them what was wrong with him. Apparently, all he had mentioned to them was to be gentle with his head; to see that they didn't move it too much.

Well, lotta good that did him.

The paramedics seemed to get the idea on their heads that he fractured his spinal cord—they went through such dramatics like strapping his head and back to a board and carrying him out the door. It was a mess.

When he finally got it through their thick skulls that his back was in one piece, and he'd made it to the hospital strap-free, Dr. Kudo did a bunch of medical procedures to bring his fever down. Once his fever was manageable, and Seto's head didn't hurt as much, Dr. Kudo X-rayed his chest cavity, looking for the cause of the blood in his lungs. He soon found the answer he was looking for—lower and upper respiratory infections. Due to the weakness of his body systems caused by his pneumonia, a virus had infected his lungs. And then, with all that good news, Seto was finally given a room where he could **_rest. _**And after all the trials of that day, he was exhausted.

So he had stayed there; his fever growing less and less. He was taking six different kinds of pills, and this really disgusting syrupy kind of fluid. At least three of the pills were horse-pills that he had to cut in half to make them normal-sized, and the fluid kind of tasted like liquidized garbage. Smelled like it, anyway.

Mokuba's visits were sporadic. After spending the first three days by Seto's side in the hospital, his visits came by less and less, until he was only coming when it was 'convenient' for him to come. He wasn't with him presently, something about "having been previously engaged thus unable to visit." Seto sighed. This can only mean one thing: He found something better to do than visit his sick brother.

At the thought of his brother, Seto looked up from the work papers he had insisted on being brought here and turned to face the window. Afternoon sunlight was pouring in from in-between the gaps in the blinds, causing a striped-patterned shadow on the wall. He let his mind linger on the subject of Mokuba.

Whether he liked it or not, Seto Kaiba knew one fact about him. He had realized this particular fact over the course of the two weeks he had been at the hospital. Mokuba was drifting . . . drifting away from _him._

Seto didn't think Mokuba knew it, but Mokuba was the only thing keeping him alive. People always figured that Kaiba had it made, with his company and everything, but they were wrong. No, KaibaCorp meant next to nothing when it came to his little brother. When Gozaburo had adopted them both and put Seto through hell, Mokuba had always been there to comfort him—to cheer him up.

Now, however, with all the madness over and things becoming normal, Mokuba was the typical child and developing interests away from dueling and his older brother. It was an incorrect statement to say Seto hadn't noticed it before the hospital stay. The truth in that matter was merely that he didn't WANT to notice it; he never wanted to think it was true. But, how can he deny the fact now? How can he say that Mokuba still thought him as a best friend; a role-model; his older brother? Why couldn't he answer the question 'where is Mokuba now?' with the standard answer he was accustomed to using for the past twelve years:

_By my side._

Seto turned away from the window sadly, putting his work off to the side for the moment. He leaned back in the bed, and folded his hands in his lap; fingers interlocked. He checked the clock, and saw that Mokuba's school was just getting out. He stared at the green luminescent clock numbers, losing himself in his thoughts.

How was it that the things so important in Seto's life seemed to be taken away from him? No matter how long he clung to them? He used to be so close to his mother. She had been more than a mother to him; she had been his mother, his guardian angel, and his best friend.

Then she had died.

After her death, he had shared the sorrow of the family's loss with his father, giving them a certain fatherly-son bond. However, as soon as wounds were starting to heal—

He died, in a terrible accident.

Mind and body going into shock after the loss of both parents; he had been forced to grow up, to protect the only thing he had left—his brother.

And so, he had lost his childhood.

His brother and him spent two terrible years in the Domino orphanage; run by a terrible man who made the orphans he didn't like (including Seto and Mokuba) do such chores like cleaning up after fellow orphans, doing dishes, and serving the owner of the orphanage.

So he had lost most of his pride.

And then, it seemed that God was finally listening to Seto's prayers; hearing his pleas. Gozaburo Kaiba, a rich billionaire who had everything Seto always wanted, came to adopt a son. He had picked Seto right away, what with Seto showing what a brilliant and crafty mind he possessed. And then, with cunning and a little foul-play, Seto had beaten the billionaire at a chess game and both he and Mokuba were adopted. He had entered the grand Kaiba mansion with a new last name and high hopes for a bright future.

Then, he lost his hopes and dreams as Gozaburo started the 'advanced' business lessons and the abuse. And as he was being trained as the 'warrior of the board room,' he had lost his weak and petty emotions, too.

Seto came out of his daze forcefully, not allowing any more thought on the subject. Too many painful memories came to his mind—things he wanted to forget. Yeah, forget. How was he supposed to forget seven years of ill-treatment and abuse?

Seto shook his head once more. There he went again—thinking of bad thoughts. He shook his head harder. He had to get out of this place; it reminded him too much of the pain, suffering, and death in his childhood.

"And how is my patient doing today?" Said a rich tenor voice from the doorway. Seto jumped nearly five feet in the air and whipped his head around, trying to find the source.

Dr. Kudo had just come in, carrying the usual clipboard and fake smile.

"I'm going to give you the same answer I've given you for two weeks now," Seto said through gritted teeth, glaring at the amused doctor before him. "See if you can follow. **I**. . . **Am**. . . .**Fine**," he spat. He became even angrier as Kudo merely laughed.

"Alright." He said simply.

"So. . . let me out," Seto told him.

"No."

"I said I was better, and you agreed with me," Seto countered.

"Yes, I did."

Seto glared. Dr. Kudo's insufficient answers and cool composer were getting on his nerves.

"So let me out of here! Sign the release papers! It's obvious I don't need to be here any longer," Seto said in exasperation.

"No. I just want to prolong your suffering by keeping you here until you die of boredom. It's my new experiment: **How Long Does It Take for a C.E.O To Die of Boredom,**" Kudo said calmly. Seto grew angrier.

"WHAT?" He yelled. Despite Seto's extreme anger at him, Kudo remained calm throughout all of Seto's rantings. He was just as calm as he looked up from his papers now, looking at Seto with indifference.

"I was being sarcastic. No, you'll stay here. I have my reasons. Just accept it and move on. Nobody likes hospitals, and if they do, they're a nut. I could get you a teddy bear from the children's ward, if it will make you quite whining," he stated matter-of-factly.

Seto glowered at him, but kept his mouth shut.

"I didn't think so. Anyway, I WILL let you know when you're better," Kudo said, getting up from his chair and gathering his papers. "And I can clearly state that you haven't reached that stage yet. I'll be back later. Good day." And with that, he left.

As soon as he was gone, a slight smile graced Seto's thin lips. Oh, he didn't doubt that Kudo would be back.

Too bad he would come back to an empty room. . .

**Meanwhile, somewhere else. . . .**

"Man, am I ever bored. . . ."

It was spring vacation, and Malik Ishtar was stuck inside his apartment because it was raining. He hated the newly-painted smell that the walls were emitting, plus most of his belongings hadn't been sent from Egypt yet. Which, considering the fact he had lived in a hole for most his life, his possessions were few. He had no technological items; like a T.V. or game system or anything. All he had was a worn, half-deflated basketball, that he half-heartedly kicked around the living room once and a while. He was miserable, to say the least. He wished Bakura could come over; THAT would lighten things up. But, alas, he wasn't allowed to have friends over if no one else was in the house. One of Isis's rules. . .he was beginning to suspect she didn't trust him. . .heh heh.

Well, at least it could stop raining.

Please?

Stop raining.

Now.

DAMN IT! I COMMAND YOU TO STOP RAINING, STUPID CLOUDS!!

"HAHAHAHAA! Yelling at puffs of water vapor, now, are we? And I thought **I** was supposed to be the insane one," said a coarse voice behind him. A smile was plastered on Malik's face before he even turned around.

"Bakura! You know, I was just thinking about you," Malik greeted, running to meet his uninvited-but-never-the-less-welcome guest.

"Eww, you hentai," Bakura teased, shoving his friend to the apartment floor. Malik blushed.

"You idiot. . .get your frickn' head out of the gutter. All I meant by that is that I wished you would come over. I'm bored," Malik spluttered, too fast for Bakura not to be suspicious.

"Whatever. . ."

"But you can't stay. I'm not allowed to invite guests over when there's no one else home," Malik said bitterly. "A new Isis-rule," He added. To his surprise, Bakura grinned.

"Good thing **YOU** didn't invite me over then, isn't it?" Bakura stated, with a smirk. Malik's eyes widened in realization.

"Oooooh, you're right. I didn't invite you, did I?" He exclaimed, grinning madly.

"Nope. You're clean. Isis can't complain," Bakura stated smugly.

"I love loopholes. . . ."

**Back to the best character in the show. . . .**

Seto ducked into an alleyway just in time as a police car drove by. Couldn't be too careful . . . He was sure people had broken out of a hospital before, and it wouldn't surprise him if Dr. Kudo had some sort of runaway-patient plan. He kept to the shadows as the cop car did a U-turn and headed the other way. The street wasn't safe . . . He'd travel through alleyways to get home.

He turned around and looked at the long, dark, and gloomy passage before him. He came to a conclusion; one that he wasn't so sure he didn't JUST realize: This wasn't one of the smartest ideas he's ever had.

But, he was out of that hell house, and that's all that mattered. He'd worry about the consequences of his actions AFTER he reminded himself what a real bed felt like.

He started down the alleyway at a quick pace, keeping his eyes on the garbage-littered ground. He didn't want to step on anything and get his expensive shoes dirty. He looked up to see where he was going, and in that second that he took his eyes off the ground, he stubbed his toe on some hard, metal object. He heard it clinking as it rolled down the alley. He swore and looked down, catching a small glint of metal out of the corner of his eye. He walked (A/N Well, hopped actually. His toe still hurts. ) over to the glittering object.

Time seemed to stop as he crouched down to get a better look at it. It shined more brightly now, as if. . .as if calling out to him. A slight breeze blew threw the alley, and Seto closed his eyes as it wrapped around him in a tight embrace. A small frown appeared on his thin face as he heard a name being called. It was distant—airy. It was as if the very wind itself was calling out to him! It was just barely a whisper, and it seemed faint:

_ -eeettttoooo. . . . . . . . .Sssseeeettttooooo. . . . . .Ssseeeetttooo. . . . ._

The object before him was glowing brightly; growing brighter by the second. He seemed to be in a trance as he slowly reached out for it. . . .As he neared it, it glowed even brighter still and the wind picked up. The whispers grew louder.

_** Sssseeeetttooo. . . . . . . . . Sseeeettttoooo. . . . . . . . . . Sssseeeetttoooo. . . . . .**_

And then, as he finally grasped the object, everything came to a halt. The wind stopped suddenly; like it had never even been there. There were no more whispers, and the object became as dull as it had before. The object. . . . .

Seto held it out in front of him, squinting in order to fully see its form. And he gasped as he recognized it immediately:

The Millennium Rod.

**Yea!! I'm done!**

**I toldja I would have the actual story come in this chapter! Ha.**

**You see now why it was necessary for Kaiba to go to the hospital? He needed to go down that alleyway, in order to find the M. Rod. And, whadja think? Seto Kaiba; THE Seto Kaiba, walk down an alleyway? If he was on crack, maybe.**

**The only way for him to even STEP FOOT inside and alley is that he was running away from something. The options were 1 hospital, or 2 Jail.**

**You do the brainwork.**

**See ya in chapter four!! Sayonara.**


	4. Flashlight Fingers

_YAWN_** Welcome to chapter four.**

_YAWN_

**I'm really tired. I was awake till one-thirty A.M**

**Aw, who cares? You people just want another chapter.**

**_YOU MOOCHERS, YOU!!!_**

**Chapter Four**

The doorbell rang. Mokuba Kaiba looked up from his videogame, and let his eyes wander to the front window. Who could it be? It couldn't be some business official—Seto was still in the hospital. Maybe it was one of his friends! No, wait. They wouldn't have made it past the rottweiler dogs Seto had placed at the front gate. Mokuba was starting to believe Seto didn't like his friends. Too hyper, maybe?

He got up from the couch, and cautiously opened the door. He'd been kidnapped enough times to know to watch out for himself. His eyes went wide, however, when he saw his brother standing there.

"B-big brother?" He said cautiously. This was definitely NOT the person he wanted to see right now. His brother glared at him.

"So. You were, and I quote, '_previously engaged thus unable to visit'_, eh? I see. Very important meeting with your video games. That makes ME feel great," Seto said sarcastically, with mock enthusiasm. Mokuba winced.

"I c-can explain, b-big brother," Mokuba started, but Seto cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"Save it. Save your petty excuses for your video game characters. You like them a helluva lot better than me, at any rate," Seto said angrily, and stormed upstairs. Mokuba heard a door slam.

"Oh, no."

**At the hospital. . .**

_How dare he!! **How dare he!!** He thinks he can just leave!! Well, I got news for him. Not only is he coming BACK HERE, he'll be staying here for even longer! EVEN IF I HAVE TO POISON HIM TO KEEP HIM SICK, AND SO HELP ME GOD I WILL, HE IS COMING **BACK HERE!!!**_

The nurses were afraid. The secretary was afraid. Even the patients were afraid. All of them had never seen Doctor Kudo so angry before, and they kinda wished they had never seen him this angry. This was scarier than the undertaker himself!!

"D-d-d-doctor K-Kudo," A nurse stuttered, entering the above's office.

"What."

"W-Well, we k-know where h-he is, s-sir," she stated, and he turned to her.

"You do? Where is he?"

"He was spotted by one of the police cars we had in the area. He was on the corner of 13th and Bard Avenue, heading into an alley way behind Imitation© Corp," she said, gaining more confidence. To her surprise, Kudo laughed. He picked up a scalpel, holding it up to a light. He watched the light shine off the surface of the metal with an almost hungry look in his eyes.

"Bring. Him. Back."

**Somewhere; downtown Domino**

Isis Ishtal opened the door to her apartment, juggling three bags of groceries and her purse.

"Malik, I'm home!" There was no answer. "Malik?" Still nothing. She began to panic, but then she heard it:

"Haahahahahahaaa!!"

"_SHHHHHHH!!"_

Isis rolled her eyes. Her brother had broken her rules. There was someone else in the house. Why was she not surprised? She sighed as she set her bags down.

"Malik, get in here!"

She heard a thump upstairs, and an 'ow!' Someone giggled. And evenshe could not help but smile, despite the anger she felt towards her brother. She heard a body come down the stairs, and a flushed Malik entered the kitchen.

"Yeah?" He asked, smoothing out his rumpled clothing. She gave him a death glare.

"Who is here? Better yet, _why is there someone else besides you in this house_?" she asked dangerously. Malik's eyes went wide, and he gulped.

"You know?" he asked incredibly, and then glared at the floor. More to himself then her, he said, "I thought I told Bakura to hush."

"Ah! So you invited Bakura to come, when you knew I told you no one was allowed in this house!" She started, voice rising. "I know you're used to running everywhere and doing what you want, but it has to stop. I will not tolerate you breaking my rules, and—"

"It's not his fault!" Said a new voice from the doorway. Malik and Isis jumped as they turned towards the new addition to the conversation. Isis grew confused.

"Ryou? So Malik invited YOU to come? But Malik, I thought you said—"

"NO! He didn't invite me! I came by myself! I was just so happy that he came to Domino—he was really great fun during Battle City. Well, _while he was there at Battle city, anyway_—and I just wanted to come over to see the new apartment and to see—well, uh, to see. . .him," Ryou explained shyly. "But I'll leave now. Bye Malik, and sorry for getting you in trouble," he said sadly, and headed towards the door. Isis grew guilty.

"Wait! You don't have to go . . . I didn't know he didn't invite you over. . . .I'm sorry," she said, going over to him and taking his elbow. "You don't have to leave," she said again. Ryou looked up at her, and over at Malik, who gave him the thumbs up and a sly grin. For a split second, that you'd miss if you blinked, Ryou's eyes grew darker and more slanted, and his hair jutted out. But then, he looked up at Isis with that same gentle look.

"Alright. I'll stay just a little more. Can't stay too long, Bakura would be angry," he said, and Malik let out a sigh of anticipation. Taking 'Ryou' by the arm, he gave his sister a quick "thanks" and then the two of them padded upstairs again. When they reached Malik's room, the pair burst out laughing.

"Wow, 'Kura. You are a great actor," Malik said between giggles. He mocked an airy, innocent voice. "_I just wanted to see—well, uh, to see. . .him."_

"I told you. As a thief, I have great acting skills, which help **a lot** out there in the real world. Haven't you ever seen the movie, 'Aladdin?' He gets the hot chick out of trouble by acting," Bakura, (now looking like his usual self), said matter-of-factly. Malik's eyebrows rose.

". . . .Right . . . . . you think Jasmine is hot?. . . . ." He burst out laughing when Bakura nodded. He laughed so hard, he couldn't hold himself up, and he collapsed on the floor. Bakura put his hands on his hips and glared at the tomb keeper.

"What's so funny, baka?" Bakura said hotly, kicking the giggling tomb-keeper currently rolling on the floor.

"AHAH _You_ HA _think_ HAHAHAHAHA _cartoon character_ HAHAHAHA _is hot!!!_ HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!"

Bakura blushed. But then, realization came over his face.

"So do you! HAHAHAHAA!! Are you forgetting—"

Malik bolted straight up. "STOP RIGHT THERE, TOMB ROBBER!! SAY ONE BAD THING ABOUT HARUKA AND I'LL KILL YOU!!" Malik yelled, as he started going on and on about his favorite Sailor Moon character, Haruka Tenou. (A/N I don't own Sailor Moon) It was Bakura's turn to fall down laughing.

"Shut up."

"Heheheheheheheheheh."

"I said shut up."

"Hahahahahahahahahahahaaaa!!"

"SHUT UP"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!"

Malik let out a battle cry and jumped on top of Bakura, who immediately stopped laughing as the wind was knocked out of him. Malik crossed his arms as he sat Indian-style on Bakura's heaving chest.

"Get off me."

"No."

"Tomb keeper. . . .I'm warning you. . ."

"I dare you to try anything."

"I will try anything I please. GET OFF ME."

"No."

Bakura got mad. He growled loudly, grabbed a surprised Malik by the waist and threw him to the ground; thus switching their roles. Bakura was sitting on a winded Malik.

"Hey, no fair!! Get off," Malik whined, trying to throw Bakura off him.

"What are you going to do? Take over my mind and make me? Wait. . . ." Bakura's face faltered. "I forgot. You can," Bakura grumbled angrily, but got up off of Malik.

"Heheheheh. I win. Haruka is hotter," Malik grinned, glad that the thief didn't know of the earlier disposal of the rod. He sat on his bed, spacing out for just a minute. Where was it, anyway. . . .?

**The Kaiba Mansion**

Seto had never felt so many different emotions at the same time before, and it was a feeling that made him sick to his stomach. He felt mad—mad that his brother would do that to him. Back out of seeing his own brother, in the hospital. Over that, he felt sad. Sad that his brother would lie to him like that, and not even think of how it would affect Seto. If there was one thing Seto never did, it was lie to family. On top of those emotions, there was one emotion that really stood out; and emotion that was very familiar to Seto. Seto had experienced this emotion too many times in his life with Gozaburo, and when Gozaburo had died, Seto promised himself he would never have to feel it again. But now, here was this unwanted emotion again—hurt. Hurt—not any kind of physical pain, but the emotional pain of Mokuba's sudden loss of care for him. Maybe he had been too selfish; always wanting Mokuba by his side. Was this a selfish wish? Perhaps . . . perhaps he was undeserving of Mokuba's love?

No. NO!! He **needed** Mokuba, he **wanted** Mokuba to be with him always, he **had** to! Seto's fist curled into balls as anger became the dominant emotion for the moment. His whole body shook as he sobbed; yet no tears fell. He slumped to the floor; his body racking with dry sobs. And then, a feeling of warmth washed over his balled fists, as if being warmed by an invisible fire. Seto looked down at his hands confusedly, and had to bite his tongue to keep the cry of shock muffled.

His fingertips were emitting a soft, blue glow that steadily grew brighter as one of Seto's emotions grew stronger. He had been feeling intense hurt just a moment before, which must have triggered the now pale lights his fingertips were emanating.

Okay, where was the camera?

"Someone must be trying to get me to believe the 'Ancient Egyptian magic' crap again. Whoever you are, you can come out now. I've caught you," Seto snapped, glaring into the dark corners of his room. He glanced at his hands again, and was satisfied to see there were no more lights.

"Ha. Glad to see you turned the lights off," Kaiba said, not sure he was even talking to anyone. He was secretly relived that that was over. A moment ago, as he'd stared at the glow of the blue lights 'coming from his fingers,' he'd felt an unnerving sensation of déjà vu. He went over to the light switch, cast one more weary look into the darkness, and then his thoughts on the matter dissolved along with the shadows.

**Later that night. . . .**

Seto looked up from the laptop he was typing furiously on to gaze at a small digital clock resting on the desk. He read 1:30 A.M.

He was dead tired, and the print on the computer seemed to get smaller and smaller with each passing minute, so he decided it was time for bed. He saved his charts, shut down the laptop, and switched of the house's computer mainframe. Nobody had ever broken into the Kaiba mansion, so there was nothing to worry about there.

He got up from the chair and stretched, yawning largely. Dumping the remainder of his coffee in the sink by the door, he headed out of his office, shutting and locking the door tight. He couldn't trust anyone around here . . . that list now included Mokuba. He felt a terrible heart-clench at the thought of his brother, so he left it an empty subject.

He emerged from the downstairs office to the entrance hall, which was basically a large, decorative hall that led to practically everywhere else in the hall. The hall took up the entire width of a small section of the gigantious mansion (A/N **That** was rather confusing . . . um, let's see . . . mentally draw a picture of a very very very very large rectangle placed horizontally. Picture, in that wonderfully drawn rectangle of yours, two straight lines connecting the bottom and top of the rectangle, forming a perfectly fitting square in the center. That's the grand hallway. Big, huh?) He started heading over to the stairwell at the far end of the hall, but only made it halfway across the floor when there was a forceful blow of the wind, and all the lights went out.

Seto glanced around himself nervously, fumbling with a lighter he was trying to get out of his pocket. When he finally managed to fish it out, he lit it, wishing the light it was giving off wasn't so feeble. . .

There was a creak (which normally would have been soft, but because of the silent air, was magnified) on a floorboard near to him, and he dropped the lighter in surprise. It went out.

_Shit_, he thought, as he crouched down and began groping around him for the lost lighter. Another creak came, sounding closer than the last one. Panic coursed through his body; threatening to overcome him.

"W-who's there?" He whispered, forgetting his search for a minute, listening for an answer. Fear and dread started to mix in with the panic, as there was no reply.

_Shit, shit, shit, shit_, he thought over and over again.

Suddenly, he felt a familiar feeling of warmth washing over his hands. He looked down, and was startled to see them glowing again. The light was bright, due to his intense emotions at the moment, but he could see. He squinted into the now _semi_-darkness, looking for an intruder. He whipped around as he saw something flash out of the corner of his eye. He advanced towards the thing, holding his still-glowing hands up for protection. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, as he approached the shining object. What was it?

He stopped suddenly, as the blue light coming from his fingertips washed over the object in question. It was the Millennium Rod. He was confused.

"But. . .this isn't. . . .where I put it," he said softly, his heartbeat growing louder as the Rod reflected the light of it's golden surface. So pretty. . .he tentatively reached out for it, never taking his eyes off it once.

"_Sssseeetttoooo. . . . . . . . . Sssseeeettttooooo. . . . . . . ."_ Seto's name was being whispered by the wind, as it played about the room. It danced in circles around Seto and the Rod, drawing them closer together. Seto's fingers were almost brushing up against the golden surface; he could feel the strange aurora around the Rod, pulling him in trance. Almost there. . .just a little further. . .

"Big brother?"

Reality came rushing back to Seto as the lights flicked on, causing the wind to stop abruptly. His fingertips were back to normal, giving no sign that they had been illuminated just moments before. Seto looked up to see his little brother descending down the grand staircase, looking at his older brother with concern.

"Are you alright?" Mokuba asked, worry evident clear in his voice. Seto wrenched his gaze away from his brother, and down to the side-table he had been approaching, frantically searching for the Rod. His eyes became wide.

"Big brother?"

Seto gazed up at his brother, with a lost and confused look on his face.

The Millennium Rod was gone.

**Yeah!! The end!! (Not of the story, dodo brains; just the chapter.)**

**I think I comma spliced.**

**OH WELL!!!!**

**Merry Christmas everyone! Oh, and give your wonderful authoress a Christmas gift, and go read her new story she just posted.**

**Chapter two will be up in a mere few days, so be sure to have a look.**

**Thanks, Happy Quanzakkamas (Quanza, Hanukkah, and Christmas combined!!)**

**And Happy New Year!!!**


	5. Mind Slaves and Mirrors

**This chapter has been revised quite thoroughly, though you probably won't notice until later on. The beginning was fine, but towards the middle I felt Seto was a bit OOC, so I re-wrote that. I added a lot onto the Malik scene, to tie it in with the story instead of having it as an odd side dish, and the ending—I had already rewritten it before so I left it as is.

* * *

**

Chapter Five.

Seto Kaiba knew a lot of things. He knew the square root of 578 off the top of his head; he knew the planets and their courses. He knew how much wood a woodchuck could chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood, (3.7g of wood per minute) and he knew quite a bit about the laws of physics.

**_Because_ **he knew a lot about the laws of physics, it confused him to no end as to how the _hell_ the Millennium Rod was downstairs one minute, and back upstairs in his room the next. He did **not** imagine the episode in the front hall; the wind and the Millennium Rod had been far too real for him to pass the blame to hallucination. So then, what the hell was going on here?

Seto was currently upstairs in his room, getting dressed for another boring day of school. He'd been putting the blue boys' uniform on, when the Millennium Rod had rolled off his bedside table on its own accord; gaining Seto's attention. That had led the brunette to start thinking about the previous night's adventures . . . What _had_ happened? How had he come to get the Millennium Rod in the first place? He wasn't dim-witted, _or_ ignorant. He knew it belonged to that crazy psycho, Malik Ishtal. But, hadn't Malik and Isis left for Egypt at the end of Battle City? And last time he'd checked, Egypt was miles from Japan. Growling lowly, he clutched his head. Ra, _what_ was going on?

Seto started. What had he just said? Ra? Quickly, the genius boy processed that word through the supercomputer of his own mind. His brain quickly came up with results.

Ra. A derogative from Re, which is short for AmunRe, which is the sun-god in Ancient Egyptian mythology and their patron God. Seto shook his head. And he'd said that _why_?

He glared at the Rod, deeming this its fault. He was starting to talk like Malik and Bakura; they exclaimed to 'Ra' all the time. Sometimes Yugi did it, too. And they all believed in the Ancient Egyptian Magic crap. _It's the Rod's influence,_ he told himself. _Nothing more._

Well, not for long. Bending over, he quickly snatched the Rod from its place in the floor and stuffed it into his brown leather backpack; straightening out and heaving the bag over his shoulder. He would give the ancient relic to Yugi, and have it be **_his_** problem.

Coughing slightly, he headed down the stairs. He still felt a little sick, but he'd already missed enough school to last him two lifetimes, and he wasn't going to miss a chance to get rid of that stupid rod.

He was surprised that the hospital hadn't called him yet. After all, he'd left without them signing his release papers, and if there was one thing Kudo couldn't stand, it was being shrugged off. He was the sort of person that liked feeling important, and he never got along well with people more famous than he.

'_Why hasn't he tried to find me yet? Certainly he's noticed my disappearance by now. . . ."_

The doorbell rang. Seto growled. He just **shouldn't** have said anything at **all**.

He ran down the hall, trying to get to the front entrance before his butler; to stop him from opening the door. But he was too late—there stood Doctor Kudo on the doorstep, regarding the butler with a cool stare. Seto froze on the top step of the grand staircase; watching the interaction breathlessly.

"Yes, is Mr. Kaiba there? This is very important," Kudo asked, his tone icy. His narrowed, hazel eyes wandered over the room, and Seto cursed inwardly when they settled on his figure. Doctor Kudo smirked and strode in the house confidently, knocking the poor butler aside. He stopped at the foot of the stairs and regarded Seto with a mock-kindly gaze, twirling a scalpel idly between his fingers. **(A/N YES! Dr. Faust, Dr. Faust, Dr. FAUST! ahem Sorry 'bout that :D)**

"Well, my little escapee, headed to school are we?" Kudo said with a sarcastic friendly tone, as if they were talking about nothing more than the weather. Kaiba didn't say anything.

Suddenly, Kudo's demeanor became very angry. "Well, aren't **you** just on top of the world, eh Seto Kaiba? Tell me, how is the view from up there? Enjoying the sight of all the little _ants_ crawling around your feet, bowing to your every whim? Well, I have news for you. **I** will not stand absentmindedly by and just watch you have your way, no sir! _I am not a pawn in the Life of Seto Kaiba_!" He yelled, advancing up a few steps of the staircase where Seto stood immobilized, shocked by his doctor's loud ranting.

'_What a control freak,'_ he thought.

"Now, come here! We are going back to the hospital, and this time you will stay until I release you, understood?" He pointed to the door with one hand, and beckoned Seto with the other.

Seto refused to even budge. "I'm not going with you. Any idiot with eyes could see that I am more than well now; **you** are the one that seems to be on top of the world, not me," he snapped.

Kudo almost exploded with rage. "What? How dare you! I try to take care of you, as you pay me to do, and all you can do in return is just insult me? I came all this way out of concern for your health, and—"

While the mad doctor ranted, Seto unconsciously put his hands in his pockets, and his left found its way to the rod. He grabbed the handle, thinking very hard about how he would just _love_ to put one of the rod's sharp wings through Kudo's back.

"—going to the hospital, whether you like it or not!" Kudo advanced up the stairs even further. Now he was only six steps from the top.

"I'm **not going!** I'm headed to school, so get the hell out of my way," Kaiba spat, however not moving from his spot. Dr. Kudo, sighing, was silent for a moment; and then he all-of-a-sudden started approaching the subject in a different way.

"Seto, please. You're just being stubborn. You are not well at all; I can see that as we speak. You are quite pale, and you look as if you haven't slept in weeks. Why must you push yourself to you limits all the time? Are you still—" He was interrupted as Seto unwillingly started to cough. He'd tried to hold it in. . . . "—coughing?. . . . Well, that answers that. Please Seto, let me take you back! You've already proved to the whole world you're "Wonder boy," so there's really no point in continuing to do so," Kudo finished.

Seto gripped the rod harder. He'd had enough of Kudo's antics. "GET OUT OF MY WAY!" He screamed, but jumped as there was a bright flash coming from his pocket. Kudo stopped moving. To Kaiba, it looked as if he'd zoned out.

"Dr. Kudo?" Seto waved a hand in front of the older man's face. The doctor didn't respond. "Dr. Kudo!" Seto said, more forcefully than before. Still there was no reaction. The man didn't even blink. Seto grew angry and started to shake the man, but stopped when Kudo began to speak finally.

"I am awaiting orders, master," he said, voice echoing weirdly—several octaves lower, and stated in a monotone. Kaiba started.

"E-excuse me?" he asked, looking around to see if there was anyone else the Doctor could be responding to, but there was no one. Kudo said nothing more. Seto glanced down at his hand, getting a weird feeling in his stomach. A bad feeling . . . . It couldn't be true, could it? He slowly started to take the Rod out of his pocket. No. . . . Please no. . . .

The Millennium Item was glowing brightly, seemingly responding to Seto's touch. Seto panicked. He wasn't . . ._ controlling Kudo's mind_, was he?

He might as well try. J-just to rule it out, r-right?

"Um . . . turn around," he ordered, and was surprised when his orders were followed. There were no protests at all. "Head down the stairs, go back to the hospital, and when you get there, sign my release papers," Seto commanded, gaining more confidence as Kudo obeyed every word he'd said. He just might have gotten carried away, too. . . .

"And after that . . . um . . . put my file through the shredder!"

"I will obey."

"And. . .Don't ever smile unless you mean it. No more stupid geeky smiles."

"I will obey."

"Finally, never call me or speak to me again!"

"Yes master," he said in that same monotone, and left the house. Seto grinned madly. As much as he probably wouldn't admit it later, that had been fun!

His smile faded abruptly, however, as he realized he'd actually _let_ himself believe the lies of the rod! He'd let himself believe that he'd actually been controlling Kudo's mind! Shaking his head, he muttered, 'Nonsense,' and started back to his room. Shuchiro Kudo just figured out it was pointless to argue with him. That was all.

Very close to his left ear, someone snorted in disbelief. He whipped around, expecting to find Mokuba standing there, or maybe a maid. Mysteriously, he found no one.

He shrugged. Must have been the wind, or something.

Yeah, right. If only he'd known ahead of time about this day, he'd turn right around and go back to bed. Because starting from this moment on, his life was never the same again. . .

* * *

Malik was starting to miss it . . . He'd been in several different situations where he could have used its ability. . .

Like the teachers. Oh, how he missed the time when he didn't ever have to worry about math homework, because the teacher had been his mind slave! He laughed as he thought about the time when he'd controlled the principle's mind, and forced him to cancel school for a snow day.

That had been in Egypt.

Over all, he just missed the way he could manipulate the people around him to make his life more convenient. Now he just had to do everything the hard way.

Without the Millennium Rod.

Malik sighed as he pulled his blue uniform top over his head, blanching as he looked himself over in the mirror. He looked like a big dweeb! He unzipped his jacket, letting the white undershirt he had on underneath show. Okay, that was a little better.

He walked over to his dresser, where his jewelry box lay. Digging through it, he pulled out his favorite pair of earrings. He stuck the backs of the round golden studs through his earlobes, smiling as he shook his head from side-to-side gently. The thin disks that dangled down from the spheres jingled merrily.

"Brother, are you almost ready? It's time to go," his sister called from down the halls. Malik quickly ran a brush through his blonde locks, grabbed his bag, and headed out to the kitchen. He grabbed the piece of toast his sister offered him.

"Thanks. I'll see you later, sister," he said as he walked out the door; nibbling on the toast.

"Have a good day, Malik."

On his way to school, Malik thought about the possible consequences of throwing away his destiny.

Possible outcome number one: It could have fallen into the evil hands of someone who wants to control the world; if that happened, chaos would ensue as countless lives were lost and the world was engulfed by darkness, and then the Pharaoh would loose his soul and all humanity would be destroyed.

That was, of course, the worst, morbid thing that could happen.

Possible outcome number two: The Pharaoh will find the Rod and add it to his collection. Not the most favorable out come for Malik himself, but the best option for the world.

Possible outcome number three: Someone would find it and take it to a historian, who would in turn take it to the museum, where Isis would find it, and in _her_ turn give it back to Malik.

Okay, scratch the previous thought. **That** was the worst possible option for Malik. He never wanted to see that Rod again.

But had he been too hasty by throwing away the Rod? He hadn't even been sure it _was_ his evil self, come back again. It could have all just been in his head. Was he acting selfish by endangering humanity, just because he'd been afraid?

These thoughts led him down a spiraling path of despair and confusion; was he doing the wrong thing yet again? When would his stupidity cease? Why could he not do the right thing, no matter how hard he tried?

Was he that worthless?

He had arrived at the hellhole named school once again, still cursing his worthlessness. He made a decision as he crossed the threshold, ignoring the cheerful chatter around him.

He would have to find the Rod once again, and at least make sure it was safe.

* * *

No matter how hard he tried, Seto couldn't shake the feeling he wasn't alone. He'd already dropped Mokuba off, but Seto could still sense someone there. He shuddered. He didn't like this feeling at all.

Eyes; eyes everywhere. Following him as he got out of the limo, following him as he walked up to the front doors of the high school, following him as he put his books away.

He kept looking over his shoulder, only to see nothing there.

_Dammit, Kaiba, stop being so paranoid_, he thought, as he looked over his shoulder once again. _You look like an idiot. There's nothing there._

He shut his locker loudly, and walked to homeroom. He shivered as he once-again felt the sensation that someone was breathing down his neck, but refrained from turning around this time. He slammed his books on his desk in his panic, but managed a graceful descent to his seat.

"Nice to see you back here again, Mr. Kaiba. I hope you are feeling better," his homeroom teacher said, smiling at him. "What were you sick with?"

Seto regained control of his emotions. "I was out with a sever case of pneumonia. But I am better. Thank you for your concern," he said emotionlessly. The teacher went back to her work, and the classmates who had been listening started to buzz with this newfound information. The fan-girls were fretting over the idea of Kaiba being very ill, while the boys were jealous. Kaiba snorted, not caring what any of them said.

"Hey Kaiba," a cheery voice called to him. Seto looked up to see Yugi approaching him. He started to tell Yugi to beat it, but then remembered his little 'problem.' He let Yugi take a seat beside him.

"How are you feeling? I heard you were really sick—but were you seriously in the hospital?" Yugi asked. Seto nodded absent-mindedly.

"Yes. Sever case of pneumonia. But Yugi, am I ever glad to see you," Seto said, and Yugi started.

"Y-you are?" He hadn't been expecting that.

"Yes. You see, on the way back from the hospital, I had a little run in with a certain object. An object I never expected to see here, of all places, and an object I am very, very happy to be rid of," he said, taking out the Millennium Rod and shoving it in Yugi's arms. "You take it," he ordered. Yugi's mouth dropped open.

"The rod? You had the rod?" He stuttered, looking from the rod to Kaiba and back to the rod again.

"You know, the word 'had' is music to my ears. Now, kindly remove your personnel from my presence, and take that damn rod with you," Kaiba said, turning away from the shorter boy. Suddenly, Yugi's stutters ceased, and his voice deepened. He let out a great laugh.

Seto wasn't as ignorant as he led people to believe. He'd listened to all the 'Ancient Egyptian reincarnation' business; he'd heard all the legends and myths. About the Pharaoh and Yugi being his reincarnation, and about his _own_ role in the past, as High Priest of Egypt. He listened with secret fascination about tales of monsters and magicians; thieves and kings—but of course, he led the others to think he didn't believe any of it.

As much as he _did_ believe it, and secretly _long_ for it, he simply could not let himself _have_ it. He had his reputation to think of, and his best interests. There was nothing in the past for him; his own life as Seto Kaiba taught him that. He didn't need even **more** possibly-horrible memories to add to his collection. He had _plenty_, thank you very much.

But, because he secretly _did _believe it, and because he _did_ listen to the stories, he knew that he was now in the presence of the 5,000 year old pharaoh, Atem.

"I'm not taking this," Atem laughed, gently putting it back in front of Seto. "It is yours. I knew that one day it would appear to you. You did not realize it, but ever since Battle City, it has been calling to you," he stated, smiling secretly at Seto. Seto scowled.

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course you're taking it. Look, if you're trying to get me to believe in this magic shit again, you can just stop, because I'm not buying it," he spat, shoving the rod back in Atem's face. Of course, he lied. He had _already_ believed it a long time ago.

"Kaiba, you can't continue to ignore your past! You have to face it sooner or later—and frankly, I don't understand why you _persist_ on not believing it. You've seen just as much magic as the rest of us!" Atem said desperately. "Don't you understand? If you don't take the rod _now_, you will just be delaying the inevitable. The rod WILL continue to call you, and it WILL find its way back to you," he said. Seto scoffed.

"I'll ask you one more time," Seto said dangerously. "Get that thing away from me! I've had enough of its antics!" He yelled. Atem suddenly broke out into a smirk.

"Aha! So you _have_ sensed it calling you! You _have_ been witnessing its magic! Now that I think about it, you _had_ to have been sensing _something_. **_Why would you even take it home with you if you weren't?"_ **

Seto started. Why _had_ he taken it home? He could have just left it on the ground, and walked away. Certainly he would have had no problem doing so. But he _hadn't_. He'd just gotten this . . . this feeling that if he didn't take it . . . it would be a mistake.

"I . . . well, I . . . Well, what was the rod doing here anyway? This is Malik's, so shouldn't it be in Egypt, with him?" Seto asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes, it should be. That is, unless he's here as well, wondering why the hell **you** of _all people_ have his rod," said a new voice. Kaiba jumped and looked up into angry violet eyes.

"Malik?" Seto said disbelieving, and Malik nodded.

"Yes. While you were off skipping school, I transferred here from Egypt," Malik said, scowling. "My sister and brother are here too," he added.

"That's wonderful! Here, take this back. I don't want to ever lay eyes on it again. Have a good life, all of you. WITHOUT ME IN IT," Kaiba shouted, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and leaving homeroom. Malik and Atem looked at each other.

"Well, at least he had it for a little bit. That shows some progress, right?" Yugi was back. He looked a little uncertain. Malik, however, wasn't listening. He looked pale, and was holding the rod out in a shaking hand.

"Malik, are you alright?" Yugi asked, but Malik shook his head.

"Yugi, you take it. I don't want it. Just keep it safe, alright? And for once, don't ask questions," Malik muttered, dropping the rod to the floor with a clatter and hurrying out of the door. Yugi's eyebrows rose. What was that all about?

**_It seems aibou, that this little rod has a few more secrets up its sheath,_** Yami stated from his soul room.

_Yeah, and I have a feeling we're about to find them out.

* * *

_

Seto typed furiously away at his laptop, only breaking his concentration once to look at the clock.

11:30 P.M.

After finishing the school day, he'd gone to work with a small smile and high spirits. He'd felt great after getting rid of the rod. He no longer had that feeling like he was being watched and a big portion of his stress had disappeared.

That feeling had evaporated, however, when he came home to find the Millennium Rod on his front step. A note had been taped to it:

_This is yours. _

He'd immediately called Yugi, and started chewing him out for 'trespassing' and threatened to get a restraining order from the local judge. Yugi had only laughed, saying, "You can't restrain destiny," and then hung up.

Seto had been in a bad mood the rest of the night.

He let his eyes wander to the bed-side table, where the Rod lay. It glittered merrily, and Seto could have sworn he heard laughing. . .

"You know, staying up this late isn't good for your health," a low tenor voice said. Seto gasped and jumped up in surprise; dropping his laptop. It crashed to the floor, where it shattered.

"Oh, no," Seto moaned, crouching down and picking up the pieces of his precious laptop. All that work, lost! Seto straightened up, dumping the broken pieces in the trash and gnashing his teeth in anger.

_Whoever had just done that was going to get a one-way ticket straight to hell._

"Who's there? Show yourself!" Seto yelled, squinting into the dark corners of his room to search for the intruder.

"Hahaha! Show myself? But my dear Seto, I am showing myself! Turn around," the voice stated. Seto growled and raised his fists; whipping around to face—

A mirror.

Seto put his fists down with confusion. "What the hell is this? It's only a mirror," Seto spat.

Suddenly, his reflection grinned; leaning up against the side of the mirror and crossing his arms. Seto gave a cry of shock and jumped back in alarm. To his immense horror, the mirror did not show any of these movements; instead only picturing his reflection, grinning out at him like the Cheshire Cat. It was if he didn't exist anymore, and this **thing** had replaced him.

"Well, _that_ was rather harsh," it stated, giving a look of hurt. "But don't be ridiculous. You exist. In fact, that's the problem." His reflection's demeanor suddenly became much more menacing. "You exist, and I don't. But don't worry," his reflection stood up straight again up again, grinning at him. "That won't last for long!"

At that, a great pain exploded in Seto's head. He screamed, falling to his hands and knees. The figure started laughing, and the pain grew greater.

"Hehehehe. . .HAHAHAHAHAA!" (A/N Sound familiar?)

Seto felt as if his head was being cleaved in two. He curled up into a ball on the floor, screaming in agony.

"My poor, poor little aibou. . .This always is the most painful part," his reflection said in mock concern. Seto's vision started to darken. The last thing he saw and heard was his reflection put a hand on the glass of the mirror, and say, "See you on the other side."

And then his vision went black.

* * *

**OOOOOHHHH! CLIFF HANGER!**

**How'd you like it? Freaky, huh? Just to let you know, the mirror just really isn't anything. Sounded like a good way to bring Seth in.**

**So, next chapter, the madness begins. Seto has to get used to his new 'houseguest.' How will Mokuba take it? Find out next chapter!**


	6. Figments of Our Imagination

**Yeah! It's vacation!**

**:singing: VACATION, VACATION, VACATION!**

**So, I just want to let everyone know that I rewrote a bit of the last chapter, (the part that starts with 'Seto typed furiously away at his laptop') and I want you guys to go and read it because it's a hell of a lot better than it was last time.**

**Keep your eyes open! I'm going to be typing a lot over vacation and may update my other two stories.**

**Happy reading!

* * *

**

Chapter Six

Seto slowly regained consciousness, groaning in pain as his head started throbbing. Without opening his eyes, he rolled over on his back; promptly hitting his head on something very hard.

"Ouch! Damnit," he cursed, opening one eye to see what the heck he'd just given himself another concussion on. He stared up at his office desk.

Huh? What the heck was he doing in his office? If he'd fallen asleep doing company work, wouldn't he have been in his chair still? He slowly got back to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head. He walked around to the back of his desk; rummaging through the drawers in search of his handy-dandy bottle of 'relief,' occasionally letting out a curse as his head gave out a particularly painful throb.

Unbeknownst to him, a tall, lanky see-through somebody was watching his antics with gleeful mirth, silently laughing to himself and thinking, _'Ra, this is going to be fun.'_

The see-through somebody pushed off from the wall and glided silently over to the cursing teen before him; leaning in quickly right by his ear.

"HELLO!" He yelled cheerfully; standing back to watch the show.

* * *

Mokuba was down in the dining room, eating his cornflakes with a thoughtful expression on his face. It was rather odd for Seto not to be up at this time; usually he was up WAY before Mokuba. He hadn't been in his bedroom, (heck, he was almost NEVER in there) so Mokuba assumed he was in the downstairs office. And Mokuba soon got proof of his brother's exact location:

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Mokuba shot up so fast he sent his cereal bowl flying. He didn't care; the maid could pick it up.

"BIG BROTHER!" Mokuba yelled as he sprinted out the kitchen, down the hall, down the stairs, through another hall, through the library, and came to a screeching halt at the door to the office. He panted for a minute, before throwing open the office doors.

His mouth dropped open as his eyes came to behold the weirdest sight he'd ever seen: Behind the desk lay his big brother; his black leather office chair lying on top of him and his legs in a tangled mess with the corners of the expensive Tibetan woolen rug he'd purchased. But that's not what startled Mokuba. No, it was the fact that there were TWO Seto's; the other one standing directly over the mess on the floor, wearing a big grin and looking a bit transparent.

"Hello," it greeted Mokuba in a cheery voice, and Mokuba promptly fell to the floor in a dead faint.

"Mokuba?" The Seto on the floor struggled to sit up, throwing the chair to one side. "Mokuba, is that you?" He stood up, looking over to see Mokuba face-down on the floor. "Moku—AHHH!" He had started to hurry over to his brother, when he'd come face-to-face with . . . himself?

Both Seto's said nothing for a moment, one of them was smirking and the other had his mouth hanging open. Finally, the smirking one waved a bit.

"Uh, hello," it said awkwardly, letting it's hand drop to it's side. Seto just stared as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Who the—no, rather WHAT the hell are you?" Seto demanded, getting into a defensive stance just in case. The imposter beside him laughed.

"Oh, you ARE funny hikari," it giggled, walking a full circle around Seto. "Very funny indeed. You know who I am," it said. Seto looked confused.

"Hikari? What the hell are you talking about? Know who you are? Of course I don't," he stated angrily. "Now what the hell did you do to my brother?" He snapped icily, but the imposter wasn't fazed.

"I didn't do anything. The little runt passed out on his own," the fake-Seto snapped back, glaring a bit at the black-haired boy. Seto snarled, swinging his fist at the thing before him.

"Don't ever talk about my brother like that!" He yelled, aiming for the side of the person's head. To his surprise however, his fist went right through it, and he let out an embarrassing squeak as he tumbled to the floor. (A/N Awww! He SQEAKED!) The other him just laughed.

"You're going to have to do better than that, hikari," he said teasingly, gliding through Seto's body and out the office door.

"W-wait! Who the hell are you?" Seto yelled out in frustration, getting up from his spot on the floor. The other Seto stuck his head back into the office.

"I, my dear hikari, am the spirit of the Rod, the master of all dragons, High Priest to the Pharaoh Atem and—" He cut off as he saw his Hikari's mouth drop open again. "And your incarnation. **I** am **Seth**," it whispered, and then disappeared altogether.

'_Seth. . .' _

Seto picked up his brother and left the office, never looking back once.

* * *

'_Did we do the right thing?'_

Yugi sat on the edge of his bed, addressing the 5,000-year-old Pharaoh that was currently pacing back-and-forth on the bedroom floor.

'_**I am not certain. The calls of the Rod have become quite annoying; it's constantly giving me a headache. However, there may be hidden danger that we could be overlooking.'**_

Yugi nodded his head in agreement. _'Did you see the look on Malik's face when he thought **he'd** be the one taking it back? He looked very afraid and upset. Why would that be?'_

Yami looked thoughtful for a moment. **_'I'm not sure. It is suspicious behavior, especially since he grew up with that rod.' _**

Yugi mused over the situation for a minute, before coming up with a solution.

'_Let's go pay Kaiba a visit.'

* * *

_

A figment of his imagination. That's what it had to be! The 'other Seto' didn't make an appearance the rest of the morning, and when Mokuba had arisen, he didn't mention the incident at all.

Merely a figment of his imagination.

Seto was currently located back in the office, trying to make up for the work lost the other night. Mokuba had protested at first; something about wanting to spend 'quality time' with him. He was sorry, he really was, but he couldn't afford to waste the day.

In the middle of re-typing a report on the increase of sales percent and popularity of KaibaCorp, the doorbell rang. Getting a little paranoid of the earlier events, he had told the staff of the Kaiba Mansion that all phone calls, door-knockings, and e-mails would be answered by HIM and HIM ALONE.

Getting up from the chair, he quickly jogged through the library, through the hall, up the stairs, down the other hall, and came to a stop, using the remaining momentum to throw open the front door. With a skill he had perfected a long time ago, his composer and stance were completely calm and casual before the door opened fully.

It was Yugi.

Kaiba's mood darkened considerably. "What the hell do you want?" Yugi sighed; he expected something along the lines of that.

"We just wanted to make sure you were alright," Yugi explained quickly, but Seto's eyebrows rose.

"We? You don't refer to yourself as a plural, Yugi, when there is plainly no one else but you here. Did you hit your head on something on the way here?" Yugi growled slightly. For a moment, his eyes flashed crimson.

"You jackass. Yugi only wanted to make sure you were safe," Yami growled. Seto stared hard into Yugi's once-magenta-but-now-crimson eyes. He shortly turned away again.

"Oh. It's you. Don't you have a pyramid to rot away in?" Kaiba asked emotionlessly, but Yami was completely taken by surprise.

"Y-you're acknowledging my presence? I knew you weren't as naive as you played out to be," Yami smirked triumphantly at Seto, who'd lost interest five minutes ago.

"Whatever," he said, and promptly shut the door.

Yami was outraged. Who did that bastard think he was? He reached out and jabbed the doorbell button about seven times. He stood back and waited.

Meanwhile, Seto hadn't gone three paces before his doorbell rang once. . .twice. . .three times. . .four. . .five. . .

That was enough! In a rage, Seto threw open the door with a 'bang.'

"WHAT?" He yelled, but Yami wasn't fazed. Instead of answering, Yami strolled right in. "Hey! Where the hell are you going?" Seto grabbed the back of Yugi's shirt.

"Where's the rod?" Yami asked calmly, taking Seto by surprise. He let Yami go.

"What?"

"The Rod. Where is it?" (A/N I'm falling asleep here, and I'm the one writing it! Time for some action, don't you think? Some. . .Magical action?)

Seto glared and was about to answer, when suddenly he stopped; a look of horror washing over his face. Yami started.

"Seto? Are you alright?" Yami asked gently, using Kaiba's first name instead of the hated last name. Seto quickly jumped in front of Yami, obscuring his vision from the rest of the house.

"The Rod? Right. Upstairs. Wanna go look for it? 'Course you do. Go," Seto shoved Yami up the stairs, ignoring the shorter boy's protests.

"Seto? What's the matter? You're talking so fast, you sound like Jou," Yami muttered, but disappeared into the upper rooms of the house.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Seto whipped around to face the source of his stress.

"You!"

Seth was leaning up against the door to the kitchen, laughing loudly at Seto and staring at him with lazy eyes. As his laughter died down, Seth pushed off from the wall and strode gracefully over to the stiff-backed C.E.O.

"Hello again, Hikari," Seth purred, grinning madly. "Miss me?" Seto snorted.

"Hardly. What the hell are you doing here again? Last time I saw you, you ran out of my office scared," Seto sneered. Seth gave a rather childish pout and a 'hmph!'

"I did not! I disappeared mysteriously! There is a difference," Seth said indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Besides, I thought it best not to startle you too much in one go."

Seto snorted again. "Startle me? Please. You're lucky I didn't call the police," he spat. For a moment, Seth looked confused.

"Po-leese? What's a po-leese?"

Seto sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why am I even talking to you? You're just a figment of my imagination anyways. I wonder what I ate that brought you on. . ."

You would think Seto had just slapped Seth across the face.

"Excuse me? _Figment of your imagination?_ I think not," He hissed angrily, getting right in Seto's face. Seto was taken by surprise, thus could do nothing but stand there.

A few minutes of silence.

"Kaiba, I looked everywhere for the Rod, but I couldn't find it. Now, are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?" A rather loud voice called from the top of the stairs, and Yami came stomping down. Seto quickly turned his gaze back to Seth, only to find him gone.

The rod was in his place.

"Oh. M-my bad. H-here it is," Seto stuttered, leaning down and taking up the object in his hand. However, a look of horror washed over his face and he promptly dropped it. Yami looked at him confusedly.

"What's the matter with you? First, you shove me upstairs; sending me on a fruitless goose-chase for an object that you most-likely knew wasn't up there, and now you're acting really strange! Not to mention stuttering like an idiot! What's wrong?" Yami put a hand on Seto's tense shoulder, but Seto just shrugged him off. He bowed his head; long brown locks obscuring his eyes.

"I think you should leave now."

His hands were hidden behind his back.

* * *

Swearing madly, Seto scrubbed at his hands, trying to make the cursed blue light wash away. The faucet water was freezing cold, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to get rid of every last trace of that blue stuff, even if it meant ripping off a layer of his skin.

He started when there was soft chuckling behind him. He gasped and whirled around; coming face-to-face with the 'figment of his imagination.' Seth was leaning against the doorframe, laughing softly at Seto's antics.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Seto barked angrily, quickly shoving his hands in his pockets. Seth just laughed louder.

"I'm watching you make a fool of yourself. I must say it's quite entertaining," Seth said matter-of-factly. Seto growled.

"And how am I doing that exactly?" He snapped, glaring daggers at the imaginary person in front of him. Seth just smiled.

"Let me see your hands," Seth ordered, giving Seto a sly look. Seto's stomach sank.

"Wha—what? Why?" Seto stuttered nervously, shoving his hands down further in his pockets. Seth just grinned.

"I thought so. You're starting to get your Heka, aren't you?"

Seto was confused. "What the hell is Heka?" He asked, trying to sound uninterested. He gasped however, when Seth casually held up his hands, and the exact same blue stuff that now plagued Seto formed over Seth's fingers.

"**This** is heka. Egyptian magic," Seth explained, and Seto gasped further when he started to manipulate the blue light—err, Heka, as it was. With a flick of his wrist, all the blue light flocked to one fingertip, forming a bright blue ball on Seth's right index finger. Another flick; now all the blue light was on his left ring-finger.

"Once you learn to control it, it is much fun!" Seth said, still making the light go from one finger to the next. "Are you interested?"

Seto's eyebrows rose. "Interested in what?"

"Learning how to control it."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so."

"But _why_? It's a lot of fun, and it can come in handy."

"NO!"

Seth gave up, making the heka dancing around his fingertips disappear. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"You're no fun."

"About time you realized it. Now, if you'll excuse me." Seto grabbed a hand towel off the rack and left the bathroom, leaving a slightly-angry spirit behind him.

'_He'll come to his senses soon. I just hope that when he does, it won't already be too late.'

* * *

_

Down beneath the blue waves of the Pacific, lies many secrets of man's history that will never be discovered. Treasures of untold civilizations; once golden and beautiful, now lay as homes for fish and other aquatic life.

Far off the coast of Japan lay the remains of the ancient city of Wehenabule, unknown to the modern world above it. There were no stories telling of her people. No myths, no legends—artifacts coming from no burial site, from no excavation project. Did she even exist?

Indeed she did. In 678B.C, she sunk beneath the waves of a mighty typhoon; the fierce Pacific destroying all evidence of her existence, and killing every last one of her people.

_Or did it?_

Down beneath the blue waves the Pacific—

Down.

Down.

Someone opens their eyes.

* * *

**OOOHH! What's gonna happen?**

**Just so you guys know, all that crap about Wehenabule I made up. There is no such thing as Wehenabule, but for this story there is. So there.**

**Well, I wasn't as motivated as I thought. I thought I'd get this chapter out by Tuesday, and here it is 12:18 A.M Thursday! I don't think another chapter of ANYTHING will be coming out any time soon.**

**Sorry. **

**I dunno, I thought this chapter was kinda boring and poorly written. I got writer's block and kinda fudged my way through it. I hope the last part made up for it! **

**Review for me, and tell me what you think. You can also tell me what you want to see in future chapters! You can even tell me that I suck dick and to get off the internet, but I can't say that I'd listen. **

**Bye now!**


	7. Fieria Beustance

**God, I'm sorry for the long wait. I just haven't been inspired at all to write. But, I have now, so here you go.**

**I think I'm going to start replying to reviews now, to encourage everyone to review. AND WITHOUT FURTHUR ADO, CHAPTER . . . SEVEN? EIGHT? I don't remember. It's been to long.**

Chapter Seven or Eight

_There was a tree, as I recall, right by the palace walls on the northern side of the Obelisk of Horus. I loved to sit beneath that tree and read the scripture; so much that it became sort-of a sanctuary for me. Servants (or Siamun—the Nanny, as Atem called him) would come looking for me . . . and all Father would say is, "The tree," and be done with it. The gardener even began calling it the Tree of Set, and I would laugh. The tree of Set . . . it has to be gone by now. A shame, though I could always find a new 'sanctuary,' as I put it. Ra forbid Hikari's Palace (as I've begun to call it) is big enough that I can find SOMEWHERE to call my own. Speaking of Hikari, I hope my momentary insanity hasn't hurt my chances of getting to know him better. He is definitely an interesting person. His naivety about destiny and his part in it somewhat gets on my nerves, but I'll make him see sooner or later. After all, I am a High Priest, and patience is my middle name. (It has to be, when one works with mildly-less-intelligent-than-I-would-like-them-to-be peasants.) I hope Hikari stops being ignorant soon. I can sense something dark arising beyond consciousness; something dark . . . yet disturbingly familiar. NOT a good combination, seeing as I never had the best of lives. I would like to start training Hikari in the art of sorcery right away, but whenever I bring up the subject he pushes me away. He needs to come into terms with his past, with **me**, before he can move on to his future. A fact I will make him see, I vow, no matter what._

_Which brings me to where I am now. I have a plan. A very good one, at that. You see, I'm going to send him dreams. Not ordinary dreams, that always seem to involve one's socks (or one's dangerously cute rabbit slippers) turning into monsters and chasing everybody off cliffs while eating strawberry ice-cream, but dreams of his past—my memories. If that doesn't do it, I don't know what will. To tell the truth, I was a bit shocked when he still denied destiny even thought proof was STANDING RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM, NOT HAPPY THAT IT WAS BEING DISMISSED AS 'SOMETHING HE ATE.' Ooooooh, I was mad. Heh. Speak of the devil. . . . . _

Seto opened the door to his office, juggling his metal briefcase, oak-tag folders, and a duel disk in one hand; his keys, a pen, and a checkbook in the other. He had no extra finger to turn on the light switch, so he just went to his desk and dumped the armload on the surface. He had a few casualties—the pen rolled off the desk and onto the floor, and the papers fell out of one of his folders. He quickly shoved the papers back, but left the pen on the floor. He sighed in relief as he finally was able to relax, panting slightly at the effort it had taken to get the aforementioned items to his office.

His relaxation was short-lived, however, as the light flicked on mysteriously. He started in surprise and whirled around to face the switch—only to find Seth standing there; one hand on his hips, the other resting on the light switch that he just flicked on. He was giving Seto an unreadable expression as he shifted weight from one foot to the other, dropping his arms down to his sides.

"What are you doing in my office!" Seto demanded, arms akimbo. Seth just shrugged.

"Looking for a Tree of Set. What are you doing?"

Seto blinked. "Tree of Set? What the hell is that? Well, never mind. I'm here because this is my office, and I have work to do. Go look for your 'Tree of Set' somewhere else; preferably somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean," Seto spat, and then started to ignore Seth. Seth just shrugged again, heading out the door. Halfway down the hall, he heard what sounded like a million sheets of paper fall through the air, followed by a loud curse.

Seth chuckled, and resumed his expedition for a Tree of Set; somewhat happier than before.

* * *

"You. . .seem different from earlier," Seto said cautiously as he watched Seth sacrifice one of Mokuba's old stuffed animals to the gods. (Seto grimaced as he remembered explaining to a very angry Seth why sacrificing humans was illegal nowadays, and that nobody had a spare goat, either.) Seth finished his prayer and looked up at Seto; a small frown gracing his lips.

"Different? Ah, from before. Yes well, I had momentarily lost my sense of self. Spending eternities trapped in a small object can do that to you," he stated matter-of-factly, wiping fuzz off the ceremonial knife. An odd kind of smirk appeared on Seto's face as he watched the strange scene before him, finding it hard to believe Seth was still sane.

"But I thought you were supposed to be an Egyptian spirit, not an Egyptian genie," Seto laughed, smirking as Seth looked up indignantly.

"Excuse me? A genie? Don't make me laugh. I have much more power than those pixies," he shot. Then, calm washed over his face. "Ah, well. Genie, spirit—it's a common misconception," he stated, going back to his sacrifice. Seto was left hanging out to dry.

And that, of course, was the initial point.

* * *

A figure walked silently among the blue ruins, running his hands along the broken surface of a once-majestic building. He stopped to examine a shattered mosaic; fingers brushing along the rough and uneven surface. Another figure approached him. Without looking up, the first man spoke.

"How many are there?"

The second figure bowed. "There exists twenty, my lord. We've been waiting for you. . ."

The first man turned towards his companion. "How long has it been? Since the cataclysm?"

The second pondered over this question, before saying in a confident voice, "About five thousand years, my lord. We've been waiting all this time . . . we are glad you are back. Here, come to the _Fieria-Beustance_, my lord; she still stands. The others wait for us there." (A/N Pronunciation: Fee-**air**-ee-ya Bee-**you**-stonce. In their language which I totally made up, would mean Fiery Beauty.)

The first man complied. The pair traveled through the ruins of the ancient city, and the man was distressed at its state of ruin.

"Wenhenabule. . . .what has befallen you, my beautiful Wenhenabule?"

* * *

Bakura leaned against a telephone pole; trench coat fluttering about his legs with the breeze. The pole shed a small halo of light about the cement where Bakura stood, but beyond that was darkness.

Concentrating hard, he tapped into the powers of the Ring he wore around his neck, searching for a familiar aurora. An aurora he should have sensed at Malik's house, but did not.

He searched for the Rod.

With a tiny tinkle, the farthest pointer to the left flew up. Suspended in the air by magic, the tip pointed due south. Bakura's eyebrow's rose. South of here was where all the fancy-ass people lived . . . What, did Blondie have a momentary bout of sanity and sell the damn thing? He smirked in amusement at that thought. But then his eyes grew wide as he realized the more likely explanation of the situation. . ._ Seto Kaiba!_

The albino spirit started to chuckle; softly at first, then gaining in volume. Soon it was a deep-chested howl, as Bakura's amusement increased. Anyone walking by him that night would die of fright upon hearing the wickedness in the cackle. He soon stopped, however, and opted for just a smirk.

"Seto Kaiba has the rod, eh? How . . . marvelous. Hehehehehe. This is going to be too easy . . . I shall add the Rod to my collection tonight! HAHAHAHAHAHAA!" He cackled, and started to walk away, using the powers of his Ring to guide him through the night.

Yes, someone won't know what hit them—but it's not going to be Seto.

* * *

**Really short, yes, but I just had to get this up today! It's been so long. . .**

**Wow, I had a lot of little scenes today. Ah well. Next chapter will be longer, promise!**

**NOTE: Next chapter I will start to reply to your reviews! So ask any questions you want, and I'll answer them!**


	8. Nightly Visitor

_Seth smirked in triumph. "My victory has been assured! Are you prepared for this?" He asked the Prince rhetorically, raising his rod high in the air. "Staff of shadows! Bring forth the fair-skinned Dragon of the Moon; my soul's own embodiment and guardian—WHITE DRAGON WITH BLUE EYES! Come serve your master!"_

_There was a rumbling, and out from the tablet came a beautiful white dragon; wings outstretched and mouth open in a mighty roar that shook the walls of the throne room. The spectators gasped in awe at the dragon's majesty, and Seth's father looked pleased. The Prince looked on calmly._

"_White Dragon of the Moon! Destroy that Magic Man!" Seth commanded, pointing to Atem's Magician of Black Shadows. A white ball of lightning formed in the dragon's mouth, and the spectators clapped in excitement. It seemed that loosing was not the fate for the Prince's rival today!_

_However, before the attack even finished forming, Atem's Millennium Puzzle began to glow. He recited a chant, and out from his tablet came a giant book, that his Magician began to read. He preformed a spell out of the book, and then Atem ordered him to counter attack with Black Magic attack._

_Seth's dragon collapsed on the ground and Seth was thrown back into the wall behind him. His Ba gauge was almost gone. The Blue Eyes disappeared, and the young brunette knew he had lost._

_He got up on his knees, staring hard at the floor. He had lost, yet again. Why! Why could he never win? No matter how badly he wanted it, or how hard he tried? He loved his dragons no less than Atem loved his Magicians, but** still** he was beaten. Atem always had a counter to every move; a defense with every attack. He never lost. . . ._

_Sighing, he stood up, forcing a smile on his face. "Good match, as usual your Highness. Your comebacks never cease to amaze. . ." he looked pointedly to the crowd, who had erupted with cheers at their Prince's victory. "I'm beginning to think you'll never lose."_

_Atem smiled, although it was hallow. "Anyone would lose with your battle tactics. I must say, I'm glad your military skills are better than your dueling ones, lest Egypt fall in ruin," he joked half-heartedly. It was followed by a half-hearted laugh from Seth._

"_Grace me with your intelligence, my liege. What must I do to further my skills?"_

_Inwardly, Seth sighed. It was the same as always. Atem would tell him he needed to infuse more spells in with his dragons to make them stronger. He would tell him he relied too heavily on the dragons themselves. _

_The audience listened in anticipation to hear the Gods' wisdom come out from the mouth of their Pharaoh's son. "Seth, in order to be successful, you must stop relying on your dragons alone. You must believe in your other Ka monsters' abilities and your own abilities as well. You never cast any spells to aid your White Dragons; nor set traps to counter my magicians. You rely fully on your monsters, and that is your weakness." The crowd clapped, and Atem took his leave of the room. Inwardly, Seth snarled. He would never tarnish the true strength of his white beasts with common spells and incantations! In Seth's opinion, a person who relied solely on spells and traps to win a duel was plainly weak. True strength lied in natural ability, not enhanced prowess._

_Turning towards the door, Seth winced as he saw his father waiting for him. He did not look happy. He approached cautiously; hoping to Ra that his father wouldn't do anything while still in public._

"_Let's go," Ankunadin spat, grasping his son's wrist tightly and dragging him out the door. He led Seth down the dimly-lit hallway, and to a set of wide double-doors. Two guards stood on either side, and they bowed as Ankunadin barged through; dragging his son all the way. As soon as the doors were shut, Ankunadin rounded on Seth._

"_That was the most pathetic performance you have ever given, boy! The Pharaoh's brat didn't even have to** try** to defeat you! You all but conquered yourself!" Seth bowed his head dejectedly, but on the inside, he was in a rage. How dare Ankunadin say such things? He had given his best._

"_Father, please. . . .I gave my best," the fifteen-year-old boy started to say, but was silenced with a harsh slap across his face. Ankunadin had backhanded his son._

"_So you disrespect me, after all I have done for you?" He asked dangerously, and Seth gulped._

"_N-no Sir! I didn't mean any disrespect. I just don't think—"_

_**Slap**. This time, the force of the hand across his face knocked the young boy to the floor. He sat up, but did not stand. He stared at the floor._

"_Nobody asked you what you thought, boy! It doesn't matter if **you** think you gave your all; the fact is that **you're weak** and I'm about to fix that problem!" Ankunadin screamed, terrifying the fifteen-year-old boy to know end._

"_I'm sorry! Please, I will try harder next time! I swear on the Lady Isis I will!" Seth pleaded, but to no avail. Another slap—harder than all the rest. Seth could not help crying out at the abuse. _

_Not waiting for Seth to recover, Ankunadin dragged the boy to the bookshelf. There was a desk pushed against the wall, where a large papyrus scroll lay. Ankunadin unrolled it._

"_I want you to sit here and look at these spells until you've memorized all of them! And after that you can memorize these ones here!" He yelled angrily, thumbing through the bookshelves and slamming a heavy volume down on the desk. He left the room in a rage, slamming the door._

_Seth crawled up to the desk and lifted himself into the seat. He was silently sobbing, but worked hard to get his emotions in control. He began to read the scroll, breaking concentration only to wipe teardrops off the papyrus._

_Hours passed, and he had only been able to memorize six short spells. He fath—no, **Ankunadin**, would be displeased. 'Such a monster does not deserve the title of my father,' Seth thought bitterly._

_That thought distracted him further. 'What if Father really was a monster? A Ka monster. . . . He would be an evil Ka, no doubt . . . like the ones the Pharaoh draws out from prisoners' Ba. . . .' To make himself feel better, he started thinking of the most monstrous Ka's he has ever remembered seeing._

_Seth suddenly snapped out of it. 'Oh, no! How can I be thinking of such foolish thoughts now? I will never be able to memorize all these spells by tomorrow! I can't possibly do it in time!'_

"_Thoth. . . .Please . . . guide me. . ."_

_That was the last thing he thought before he turned the page of the spell book and began to read. . . . ._

**(A/N Thoth is the Egyptian god of knowledge, just for people who don't know.)

* * *

**

It was a silent night for the southern half of the city. A steady breeze flew in from the north, chilling the usually-warm late springtime air. The air was moist—dew already coated most surfaces, causing Ryou Bakura's white trainers to become quite damp.

He didn't seem to care as he flitted noiselessly down the dark street; dark burgundy eyes searching for a familiar large, white manor. . . .

There it was—standing gloomily before him in the late-night mist was a large square shadow of a house all-too familiar. . .

The Kaiba manor.

* * *

Seto awoke slowly, groaning lightly as he stretched his stiff limbs. He turned his azure eyes to the clock, and they just _barely_ registered the most _unwelcome_ numbers glowing green in the dark.

Two in the morning.

Wondering what on earth had awoken him, he groped around on his bedside table for his touch-activated lamp. His fingers finally brushed up against cool brass, and his room was lit up by a bright yellow glow.

"I am sorry you had to see that," came a soft voice from behind him, and Seto stiffened in horrid surprise when two ice-cold hands found their way on his shoulders. He jumped from the bed and whirled around to see a slightly-translucent High Priest sitting on the headboard, looking at him with an odd mix of sadness and curiosity. "And _now_ I am sorry that I have startled you," Seth added somewhat lamely, averting his eyes to the floor.

Seto shivered and unconsciously wrapped his arms around himself. A slight breeze flew in from an open window; seeping through his skin and chilling his bones.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was not unlike the sharp, icy current of air that blew in from the window. Seth's gaze snapped to Seto's once again, and saw Seto's eyes leering at him viciously. He couldn't take it. His eyes fixed to a point on the floor.

"That dream you have just seen. I am here to ask for your forgiveness, for it was I who sent it to you. I wanted to show you images from my past—your past—but I did not mean for it to be _that_ one. That memory—'twas just as painful for me to see as it was for you, and I hope you will pardon me. . . ."

Seto's leer faded into nothing. His tense shoulders relaxed, and his gaze wandered. Stretching lightly, he gave a shrug of indifference, and heard Seth sigh softly.

"May I invite you back into bed, so I can try again?" Seth asked, and Seto's reaction was immediate. He stiffened sharply and sparks flew from his eyes.

"No you may not! If you go anywhere near my consciousness again I swear I will snap that rod in half! You hear me?" He hissed sharply, and Seth huffed.

"Fine. I won't tonight. **_Tonight._** But do not think that this is the end, Seto Kaiba! I _will_ show you your past! You can not remain ignorant forever! T'would be unwise to do so!" And with that, Seth disappeared.

Before Seto could even think, however, there came a great crash from downstairs that sounded like ceramic breaking.

"What the . . . hell?"

* * *

Bakura cursed colorfully under his breath, glaring at the broken plant pot that was lying smashed on the floor; the expensive nutrient soil circling around the fallen foliage like a halo.

'_Who the hell needs a miniature tree in their front entranceway? I bet it cost more than Hikari is worth . . . though of course **that** is not a great sum to begin with. . .'_

Glancing up at the silent second floor of the mansion, Bakura figured his half-an-hour had been reduced to a mere five minutes. _'Damn!'_ Taking off down a hallway to his left, he called upon his ring once again, to pick up on the magical signature of the Millennium Rod. _'Bring me to it. . .'_ A pointer shot up sharply, tipping gently to the left. _'Excellent.'_ He ran harder. When the pointer switched directions, so did he; just as sharply. Left, down, left again, right . . . Bakura lost track after that. His heart pounded in his ears as he ran, and he assured himself with every step_—'Just around the corner . . . almost there . . . it's as good as mine. . .'_

He stopped when the Ring's pointer started swinging around in circles, to indicate that the Rod's energy was all around him now. _'This is it. . .'_ The room he was in looked like a library, or study. There was a desk to one side, with a few open books lying on its surface. Walking forwards, he began to search. . . .

It was not hard to find. That idiot had left it right in the open, on the table that Bakura had seen earlier; next to a book about exorcism. (That confused Bakura slightly, but he didn't pay much attention to it.) The Rod's soft golden surface glowed enticingly, and Bakura found himself salivating slightly. His lips rose upward in a maniacal, triumphant grin, and he had to stop himself from laughing. _'It's mine! At last!'_ He stretched out his hand slowly, fingers twitching impatiently. . . .

"What do you think you are doing?"

Bakura started and twirled around in panic. Had he been caught? Nevertheless, he kept a calm, cool composure when he addressed the voice.

"Who is there? Show yourself. I've no time for games."

The voice laughed, and Bakura's eyes darted around the room, trying to spot the intruder. When had it gotten so dark in here?

"I see _you _havehardly changed, Tomb Robber. Always doing whatever you want, never thinking things through . . . if you remember; it is actions like those that always got you caught," the voice mock-scolded, and Bakura grit his teeth in anger.

"**Coward!** Shut your mouth and just show yourself!"

The voice laughed again. "_And_ you are still as demanding as ever."

There was a flash of blue light, and suddenly Bakura was face-to-face with Seth Khapre—Highest of the Order of the Six Priests, and Egypt's most powerful sorcerer.

Bakura nearly had a heart attack. "S-Seth? How is this possible! You're supposed to be dead!" Bakura stuttered, taking a few steps back. Seth walked over to the fireplace and sat down in an armchair, using unnecessary-dramatic movements. When he was situated, he laughed delicately.

"If you forget, _you _were also, by the natural laws of this earth, supposed to have perished long ago. _But you cheated death_. Why do you think it is not possible for me to do so? After all, if a common thief can do it, why not the most powerful sorcerer in the world?" He smirked.

Bakura growled. "If you've forgotten, let me remind you—**I beat you back in Ancient Egypt!** Diabound beat your brainless dragons _with ease_!" He was getting angry at Seth's constant stabs at his ego.

To his surprise, Seth burst out laughing. "What do _I_ care of that? That was a mere Ka battle, and it wasn't even with my own Ka spirit! If we'd had a sorcerer's duel, you wouldn't have stood a chance." For effect, Seth alighted his fingers with Heka and started playing with them. Right Index finger, left middle finger, right ring finger. . . .

Bakura had no sly comment for that. While his Ka spirit was superior to any, his magic skills were lacking. He couldn't even summon one of the four major elements; the easiest spells in the book!

"So, getting back on to the subject, would you like to tell me what you are doing in my Hikari's palace?" Seth asked lazily, not even looking up from his fingers. Left thumb, left pinky, right middle. . . .

Bakura growled lowly in his throat, keeping an eye on Seth's hands. _'As easily as he manipulates the Heka on his fingers, he could kill me right now. Best keep my guard up.'_ And that meant avoiding the subject of his intrusion for as long as possible.

"Palace? Is that what you call this place? It **is** unnecessarily large, but palaces went out of style hundreds of years ago. Makes you feel kind of old, doesn't it?" It was the lamest bit of small talk he could come up with, but he _needed_ time to think of a plan.

To his relief, Seth bought it. "Yes . . . now that you mention it, I suppose I am rather ancient. . . . Good thing I don't look as ancient as I feel! I would be naught but a withering mummy by now," he mused, taking his gaze from his fingers to look up at the ceiling in thought. "Though I am glad Hikari is of the upper class. If he were as common as _you_, I don't think I could stand it."

Bakura glared. "You are as conceited as ever," he spat. Seth laughed airily.

"Yes, I think we have already established that neither of us has changed over the past few millennia. That fact is too bad, though. You could have used an attitude uplift," he said. Bakura scoffed.

"Oh, and _you're_ a god," he said sarcastically.

Suddenly, there was a groggy-sounding call from outside the library. "Is someone there? Seth? Mokuba? What the hell was that noise?"

Bakura's eyes widened in alarm! _'**Shit! **Kaiba!'_

"Hikari, over here! We have a visitor!" Seth shouted loudly, and Bakura panicked even more.

"What are you doing!" He hissed. Seth chuckled.

"Announcing your presence to Hikari. Let us see what he has to say about your thieving intentions, shall we?"

Seto, dressed in nothing but silky blue pajama bottoms and an undershirt, walked into the room, stretching and yawning.

"What was that crashing s—" He stopped dead in mid-sentence when his eyes fell on Bakura, who was looking at him like he was a bomb about to explode. Seth just looked amused.

"Bakura? What the hell are you doing in my house? How dare you trespass on my property?" Seto yelled, taking a few steps in the room. Seth egged him on.

"Yes, Hikari! Yell and scream till your throat doth ache! He attempted to steal your rod!"

Seto's azure eyes snapped to Seth's, and they held gazes for a while. Then, Seto turned back to Bakura. "Oh, well—that changes things. Go ahead and help yourself, Bakura."

Both Seth and Bakura's jaws fell open as Seto merely strolled out of the room, lingering only to tell Seth to stop being so dramatic. The door shut behind him softly.

There was silence in the room, and then—"Yes! **_YES_**! In your face, you stupid priest! He said I could have it! Hahahaha!"

"**Get your thieving hands off my rod, Tomb-robber!"

* * *

**

"Have you found him yet?" The voice was impatient and angry; it had been waiting for far too long for results.

"N-no, my lord. It is hard to find information now . . . considering how long it's been. . ."

The voice snapped back, "I don't care! Search this **whole damned world** twice over if you have to! I've waited far too long already and I can't wait any longer! I must find him, and make him _pay for what he's done_!"

The servant was dismissed, and he hustled out of the Fieria Beustance as fast as he could. It was not wise these days to cross Lord Zsita. . . .

Once alone, Zsita slumped in his chair, rubbing at his eyes. How long did they expect him to wait? He needed revenge! He _wanted_ revenge! And he would not rest until the man that plagued his dreams was in his grasp!

'_You'll pay Seth . . . for **everything.**'_

That vow was the last thing the ex-Prince of Wenhenabule thought as he whisked out of the Fieria Beustance, the doors slamming loudly behind him.

* * *

**It's been a while. No, I haven't finished renovations. . . .But I haven't updated in a while, so I decided to post this anyway.**

**So, here ya go.**

**Review Replies**

**Blue Autumn Sky: **Aww, well thanks! Actually, Wenhenabule is a major plot theme. . .I can't get rid of it! But don't you worry, there will be plenty of Seto-Seth bonding time later on:)

**HieiJaganshi11:** Well, I haven't finished renovations, but here's your chapter anyway! Actually, my English teacher is the one who convinced me to post again! So you can thank Mrs. Esposito! Thanks Espo!

**Thunderstorm101:** There is such thing as too much life. If divergence from plot equals life, my story's a cat:D :D It has nine lives! Hahahahaa—

Hehe. I'll shut up. :)

**Kenmeishouri:** Well, I doubt this cliffhanger is any better, but here ya go!

**Killerdoodlebug:** Blushes You're too kind! Thank you for reading my story! Hope you'll read others!

**Silver Illusionist:** La, thanks for waiting for my update! And for reading my story! La laaa!

**Chibineko:** Thanks!

**Animaster-sonia:** You really think so? Because I do and since this is my story . . . YOU LOSE! Mwahahahahahaaa!

(Just Kidding.) :D :D Heh.


	9. Grraah's and games

**Yay! Chapter Nine!**

**Hope you guys are ready! This one's really on-the-edge-of-your-seat intense! Hope you like it! **

**If you reviewed for last chapter, stick around, for at the end I 'give back unto the people,' as they say :) for my second annual (chapterly?)Review Replies section.**

"My Prince! Good news! The _Shiaste a Diaviente_ **1** has received little damage, and most tablets have survived!"

A palace servant, one out of the mere twenty who survived the Great Cataclysm, addressed the Royal Prince excitedly, waiting for the boy to look up from his Kurahem Board, **2** which the Prince was studying carefully, planning his next move against an invisible opponent.

The Board, which had once been very beautiful and expensive, now was cracked and chipped around the edges; those marks being thescars left from a great fall when thebeautiful islandof Wenhenabule had sunk beneath the waves. The mosaic glass that made up its complicated game board design was cracked and dusty, and most of the fragile glass markers were broken.

The servant grew nervous; the Prince had yet to say anything. Perhaps he should come back later? But then, suddenly, Zsita's shimmering copper eyes rose slowly to greet that of the servant's, and he spoke.

"This Kurahem Board is much like Wenhenabule itself. Broken. Weathered. Beaten down into the dust, almost to breaking point. But still functional. Like this board, Wenhenabule has merely lost its glamour, something that can be gained back as easily as this board can be repaired.

"Do you agree? Do you think Wenhenabule can be repaired?"

The servant was caught off-guard. "R-repaired? Certainly, I s-suppose . . . with more people . . . and supplies—"

"NO!" Zsita screamed angrily, frightening the poor servant man into a cowardly bow. "No more people! No more traitors, no more hurt! No more death . . . no more destruction . . . _no more pain_. . ."

With each successive word, the Crown Prince of Wenhenabule's voice became softer and heavy-laden, as he sunk back into despairing thoughts. This was the voice of a very tired, too-old-for-his-age child, who wanted nothing more than to have the life he once had back, and to end this nightmare.

"But I can't end it. Not until the man who did this to _my_ Wenhenabule lies before me, _screaming_ in _agony!_ JUST LIKE I DID! JUST LIKE MY PEOPLE DID!"

Zsita's thoughts came to a full-circle ending, as he finally registered what the servant had told him.

"The _Shiaste A Diaviente_ stands?"

And then, his thin, pale lips curved upwards into a smirk, and he laughed.

* * *

Zsita stood in the middle of a dark room, still smirking triumphantly as the answer to all his problems stood right in front of him; shrouded in shadows. In fact, _many_ answers to his problems stood all around him, in every direction he turned!

_Diaviente as Viagos_. **3** Servants of the Divine.

It was said that the Gods lived in a place called _Retja_, which was also known as the Realm of Chaos, because the Gods feuded constantly, and the Realm never saw peace.

It was always the evil Gods against the just Gods, and each side had large armies of terrible beasts and monsters that battled each other for their masters; the evil side to conquer, the Just side to restore peace and destroy the evil.

However, each side was equal in strength, and for many millennia they seemed to be destined to fight for all eternity—that is, until Ovato, the King of the Gods and the leader for the Just side, came up with a plan that would hopefully restore peace and balance to Retja once and for all.

He created a separate world, a dark and unstable world called Atjer, and he banished all the Evil Gods and the monsters to this place. With the help of the other Just Gods, Amaru sealed the other world up tight, so that no escape was possible; for if the Evil Gods escaped, chaos would reign in Retja once again.

Zsita smiled at the recollection of his nation's colorful past. He remembered quite vividly being in this temple as a child, learning how to summon the 'terrible beasts' in the legend.

For the Gods had favored Wenhenabule, and given them a spell to unlock this special world, to call upon the monsters if they ever were in need.

Zsita's smile faded quite quickly. Wenhenabule was no longer favored by the Gods. They had been abandoned.

It didn't matter, anymore. The only thing that was important now was the spell; two little words that would bring him what he desired.

He smirked once again, walking forward in the darkness to one of the stone tablets on the wall. He didn't need light to guide him; he'd been in this place many times, and knew his way around.

He stopped at a tablet depicting a terrible great beast; its long wingspan outstretched menacingly and it's terrifying red eyes staring and it's mouth opened in an earth-shattering roar. . . He smiled up at the creature.

"Heh heh heh. . .He won't know what hit him . . ." And, taking a breath, he touched the cold stone, and muttered the spell.

"_Touvoli V'dailous." _**4**

The eyes of the Gale Lizard started to glow. . . .

* * *

"I'm going to be late for this luncheon with the C.E.O. of Osawaga Industries if _you_ don't get out of my way! And _you_—GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

A furious Seto Kaiba first pointed at a smug High Priest, who was refusing to let the elder Kaiba pass through the front door without taking the Rod, and then at a politely yawning Ryou Bakura, who had woken up this morning, _very_ confused, on the Kaiba's living room floor. He had, (after apologizing profusely) accepted the breakfast invitation bestowed upon him by the younger Kaiba, and really hadn't gotten around to leaving yet.

"G-gomen nasai, Kaiba-sama. I'll leave right away," he stuttered, blushing. Mokuba, still seated at the table, threw a packet of artificial sugar at his brother.

"Bakura, don't you move a muscle! Big brother, get out of your _own_ house! I want Bakura to stay and play games with me, because Seth stinks at Capsule Monsters and I want a **real** challenge!" He yelled. Momentarily, Seto was surprised.

"The infamous Seth, horrible at a game? How can you even think about battling Yugi when you can't even beat a twelve-year-old at a little board game?"

Seth snorted. "Oh, please. The little imp lost to me ten games in a row, all within the first ten minutes of 'play time.' He just wants someone he can beat," he stated, giving the white-haired boy a pointed look. Ryou blushed at the attention.

Mokuba stuck out his tongue. Seth smirked back. Seto left, grabbing the Rod and snorting. Ryou just stood there, blushing as usual.

Such were the typical interactions (minus Bakura) in the Kaiba household ever since the Ancient Egyptian High Priest showed up in the brothers' lives. The once-quiet and lonely Kaiba mansion had transformed into a lively, almost normal household, which no longer seemed so vast and empty. The staff had noticed this change, though they had no knowledge of Seth, and had become much merrier in spirit as they went about the day. Vases with brightly colored flowers began to appear on once-empty table-tops, and soft music started emitting from the downstairs entertainment system every afternoon, accompanied by the maid's sweet humming as she dusted and cleaned.

The brothers had made transformations as well, though they hardly noticed them at all. Mokuba was considerably happier, and no longer seemed to mind being in the house all alone. He never used to like it when his brother was away all the time, finding the house to be considerably gloomy and lonely without him. But nowadays, he preferred staying in the house, and could often be heard singing along with the maid, or be seen outside playing in the gardens, which he had never done before.

Seto no longer worked such late hours. He said it was "to protect his brother and his household from the likes of the Seth," but of course he was fooling no one. He just simply realized that not _everyone_ was incompetent, and the point of hiring people to work for him was so that _they would do all his work._ So, understandably, the first day a report fluttered onto his desk—perfectly written and with no mistakes—he dropped his inbox, to use the cliché, like a hot potato.

He no longer wasted the effort to deny Seth's existence. It just wasn't worth it. In fact, he didn't even deny the existence of magic anymore! He'd had too many magical _pranks_ pulled on him by the High Priest to waste time pretending it didn't happen. Revenge had always been high on his priority list, and he would not let his principles get in the way of sweet, sweet _retribution_.

Atem had been secretly monitoring the Kaiba's ever since giving Seto the Millennium Rod, and was very pleased with Seto's metamorphosis. **5**

'**_He seems almost normal'_**, he had told his Hikari one day, after watching Jounouchi and Seto fight, once again. But _that_ time, things had been different. No one had really noticed the differences at first, as the usual bout of insults were exchanged.

Until**_ it_** happened.

Jounouchi had been laughing at a particularly goofy insult that he had just thrown at the brunette, when Seto did something that stunned the group into utter silence.

He had cracked a smile.

'_Yeah,'_ his Hikari had said back, smiling kindly at the brunette after several moments of stunned silence. _'I'm glad he's finally starting to let us in. I hope we will all be great friends soon.' _

'_**Me too, Yugi. Me too.'

* * *

**_

Seto stood down by the docks, the wind caressing his thin body as it traveled eastward. He glanced at his wristwatch. President Osawaga was late.

He hated being kept waiting.

He waited a few minutes more, secretly enjoying the salty sea air that blew teasingly around him. He took a deep breath and inhaled a bit of the salty spray. How he loved the ocean. . .

Just then, a voice was heard, calling over the misty water.

"Kaiba! Over here!"

Seto turned sharply, his coat tails fluttering behind him. Sapphire eyes scanned the scene before him, and found a yacht pulling up to the harbor, someone hailing him from the deck. His mouth dropped open, however, as he found it wasn't who he thought it would be.

"Osawaga?"

True, it was an Osawaga—but it was Osawaga _Junior_—not the CEO of Osawaga Industries, but his son! Seto grew angry—he knew Osawaga Jr. personally, therefore knew what a screw-off he was. What was this lunatic doing here, and on his _father's_ yacht?

"Hello Kaiba-san! Are you ready to start the 'meeting?'" Osawaga laughed, hopping of the yacht and going over to Seto. Seto was furious.

"What are _you _doing here? Where's your father? I was supposed to meet _him_ here, not you!" He said angrily, clenching his fists. He had been standing here for five minutes **_for nothing_**?

Osawaga barked with laughter. "Relax, he's on board. Hop on, Seto!" He stepped aside and threw out his arms, inviting Seto to step onto the little yacht.

Seto stalked on board; annoyed that Osawaga Jr. would be present during his meeting. "Don't call me Seto, _Junior_," he spat, but Osawaga just laughed again. He followed Seto on board, and threw away the gangplank when both had safely crossed it.

"_Touché._"

Osawaga looked up to the upper deck, where there was a closed room with a tinted windshield—the cockpit, no doubt. Seto's sharp eyes could just depict a man's silhouette through the glass. Osawaga signaled to him, and the boat started drifting away from shore.

Seto looked around. "Where's your father?"

Osawaga plopped down on a deck chair, facing the starboard side of the yacht. There was another, unoccupied chair on the other side, with a small card table in-between. The table had two martini-glasses resting face-down on the surface, with a bottle of pre-mixed martini and a box of salt resting close by. Osawaga started to fix himself one.

"Back in Tokyo, with his fat ass parked in front of the computer, no doubt," he stated calmly.

Seto dropped his briefcase. "E-excuse me?"

Osawaga roared with laughter. "That's right! You've been fooled! You know, I have to give credit to that little brother of yours—he's a crafty little imp, he is! Calling me, with some sob story about how _'Nee-sama's been working himself to death,"_ and how _"Nee-sama never takes a break,"_ and _"Nee-sama this"_ and _"Nee-sama that!"_ Next thing I know, the little imp asks me to set up a fake meeting with you and my father, only instead of having a meeting he wanted me to kidnap you and take you on an overnight vacation! Crafty bugger, I'll give him that. . ."

If he'd had another briefcase, Seto would have dropped it. "My brother did this? Without my knowledge? Or consent?" He stared incredulously at Osawaga. "Or knowledge?" He repeated, aghast.

Osawaga found Seto's reaction hilarious. "Crafty bugger, I'll say," he said again. "Spoiled rotten—not used to being ignored!"

Shock slowly gave way to anger. "You bastard! Take me to shore this instant!" He stamped his foot for effect. Osawaga laughed.

"And I see who the little imp gets it from. Spoiled rotten, the lot of you." He got up from the chair, and retrieved Seto's briefcase. "No business for you!" He said cheerily, and proceeded to throw it overboard.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!" Seto screamed, rushing over to the railing and watching his precious metal briefcase sink beneath the waves. "MY BRIEFCASE! MY PAPERS!"

Osawaga patted Seto on the back. "Don't worry—I'll hire a diving team to retrieve it later." He went back to the deckchair.

Seto was still staring at the spot where his briefcase had disappeared, thinking about all of that lost work. . .

Suddenly he felt very seasick, and he doubted it was because of the sea.

* * *

Bakura sighed. "Checkmate, for the fifth time."

Mokuba was about ready to pull his hair out. He was supposed to be winning, dammit! It was RYOU, for god's sake! Petite, pushy little RYOU!

"WHY CAN'T I WIN?" He yelled, looking up at the skies, begging for a little divine intervention.

Seth sat nearby, chuckling amusedly as he watched his hikari's brother lose to the Tomb-robber's host. That boy certainly didn't have any of his brother's gaming talent.

'_**My** Seto never loses_,' he thought.

Wait, **my**, did he say? Seth blinked once. Did he consider Seto his?

Sure his body and mind technically belonged to Seth, but was there something deeper, beyond the relationship of parasite/host, of the Millennium Rod?

Seth's brow crinkled. 'No. He is just a host, something my soul can cling to when it needs. There is nothing deeper. There is just me, and an insignificant little pawn,' he thought hardly, much harsher than he meant.

After all, he had always been stubborn, so making himself believe a lie was a rather difficult task.

". . .Helloooo. . .Seth?"

Seth was shaken out of his reverie by the annoying voice of Mokuba.

"What?" He snapped angrily, being rather in a foul mood now. Mokuba glared hardly back.

"Fine, never mind, you jerk! I'm walkin' Bakura home, I'll be back later." And with that he grabbed a blushing Ryou's arm, a jacket, and left. The door slammed shut behind him.

Seth felt bad, and the guilt only increased his foul mood.

"Ugh, why is everything in this modern world so _complicated_?" He shouted aloud, to thin air. He collapsed on a piece of furniture (he didn't remember the name of it) and proceeded to fume in silence.

That is, until a sudden, intense feeling washed over him. He jumped up in alarm.

Things weren't right with his Hikari.

* * *

Osawaga looked up from his martini glass, and into the dark grey sky.

"It looks like a storm is coming. Damn meteorologists forecasted clear skies for tonight, the friggin' liars. Seriously. What dumb-asses. We should hire our own, don't you agree, Kaiba-san?"

Seto, leaning against the yacht's railing, looked uninterestedly up into the Domino skyline. "Not worth the money to hire fools who will just make the same misjudgments." He swirled the contents of his martini glass around once, and then downed it in one go. He smacked his lips softly. "Might as well just do it ourselves."

Osawaga let out a great bark of laughter. "Hear, hear Kaiba-san!"

Seto turned from the view. He was slightly light-headed; he almost stumbled as he moved. He was a little drunk. "My first suggestion as a meteorologist is to move this damn Titanic to shore. I don't really feel like getting caught in the rain."

Osawaga nodded. He took out his cellular phone, pushed a few buttons, and held the phone to his ear.

"Hello, captain? Take us to shore. There's a storm coming, and my friend is too drunk to _stand_ in the rain. He'd collapse and then drown on the deck, and we wouldn't want that." He let out another barking laugh. The boat started moving back towards shore.

Seto was too dizzy to stand now; he collapsed into a deck chair next to Osawaga. "I think you spiked my Martini, you bastard," he slurred, and let out a chuckle. Osawaga hung up the phone and tucked it back in his jacket pocket.

"Here, this'll help," he said, reaching for the jug of pre-mixed Martini and pouring Seto another glass. "I don't wanna have to carry you off this boat like your goddamn mother or something."

Seto popped the olive into his mouth. "I thank you for being so sensitive."

All of a sudden, the yacht gave a great lurch, and both Osawaga and Seto were thrown to the deck floor violently as their chairs overturned with the sudden tremor. The martini glasses and jug crashed to the floor, sending glass everywhere, including into the two boys sprawled on the deck.

Before they had a chance to even register what was going on, there was another great crash as the boat pitched to the _other_ side. Osawaga and Seto went tumbling across the deck, stopping only when they smacked into the railing, picking up plenty of glass shards along the way.

"Ouch! J-jesus Christ, w-what the h-hell was th-that?" Osawaga stood shakily to his feet, trying to avoid the rest of the glass. His bloody hands reached for his phone.

Seto moaned, wrenching a particularly large shard of glass out of his palm. He had landed on his martini glass when he fell, and was in a much worse state then Osawaga because of it.

He had been startled out of his drunken stupor, and his mind had been jump-started so quickly that now it raced, almost hurting Seto in the process. He stood up as well, using the railing to pull himself up.

"Captain, what the hell just happened? Captain? CAPTAIN!" Osawaga was yelling desperately into the phone, but Seto could tell he was receiving no answer. The brunette turned his cobalt-blue eyes to the top deck, where the tinted glass of the cockpit could be seen. Something wasn't right. . .

A sudden calmness—the waves subsided and the air stood still, as if holding its breath, waiting . . .

_**GGGGRRRRRAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!**_

Osawaga and Seto yelled in pain, covering their ears with their bloody hands. The screech was high-pitched, and the sound waves seemed to the two boys like many tiny knifes, slicing and cutting their brains . . .

The air let go of its breath—there came a sudden gust of wind like the force of a mini-tornado, and the boys were blown backwards into the railing again. Only this time, only one got back up again.

"Osawaga!" Seto screamed, staring at his fallen comrade with horror. The CEO's son was laying face-down in a puddle of water (or was it blood? Seto couldn't tell.) He was unconscious.

Seto looked around in panic. What to do? What was happening? Something was out there, he could feel it. The question was, _what_?

The answer made itself known quickly. With another ear-shattering roar, a giant creature rose up out of the water, spreading its giant wings and taking to the skies. With each beat of a massive wing, a giant current of air was released and blew the little yacht further and further from shore.

The creature reared its head, and roared.

_**GGGGRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!**_

Seto staggered backwards, mouth opening for a scream that wouldn't come . . . He at once was attacked by something he hadn't felt in a long time . . .

Fear. Terrible, pure fear.

He did the only thing that made sense to him at that moment. He called for help—from the only person he thought might have some _semblance_ of an idea what was happening:

'_SETH! HELP!'

* * *

_

Seth was about to contact his Hikari, when a powerful emotion overpowered him, making him jerk back onto the couch. He clutched his heart, which suddenly began beating a thousand beats a second—these were his Hikari's emotions! What was going on?

'SETH! HELP!'

Seth was already gone.

* * *

The creature landed on the roof, growling menacingly and staring down at Seto like a giant bird-of-prey would look at its soon-to-be meal. Seto shook violently, his knees giving out on him and his heart racing madly. He had to be dreaming—he was lying passed out on the deck somewhere, dreaming this martini-induced nightmare. That's what it had to be. He was dreaming.

God, he wished someone would wake him up.

The dragon (as Seto's half-functioning mind decided it to be) reared it's head, and roared once again. Seto screamed as the high-pitched sound ripped his head open.

But then, suddenly, all was calm, and a warm, pleasant feeling washed over him. His heart relaxed, and his eyes closed peacefully as he drifted away. . . .

* * *

Seth, in his hikari's body, rose from the deck, assessing the situation. He was on a boat of some kind—the term 'yacht' suddenly came to his mind. Another boy lay unconscious close by, and—

_**GGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!**_

Seth's eyes widened. Aanndd, there was a giant dragon about to kill him.

Diving to the side, he just nearly avoided the dragon's spiked tail as it came crashing down on the deck, breaking the floorboards upon impact. Seth swore as he remembered the other boy.

Jumping over the beast's tail, Seth grabbed the unconscious boy and threw him to safety—which happened to be down a flight of stairs, unfortunately—Seth cringed as the body tumbled down the steps; the boy would probably be sore when he woke up, but compared to being nicely roasted to a golden-brown and eaten, it was the better option.

The creature was furious at his meal having escaped; it roared again and swung back it's tail for another shot. Seth swore and jumped to the side again, being again narrowly missed.

'_Damn you, Seto! If you'd just learned Heka sorcery when I told you to, it would have been **your** life on the line now instead of mine!'_ Seth cursed inwardly; doing a dive-roll over the dragon's sweeping tail to hide behind some barrels.

Still cursing, he alighted his fingers with Heka magic, getting physically and mentally prepared to fight. . . .

* * *

**Heheheheheh! What is it with me and cutting off at MAJOR cliffhangers? It's like I enjoy getting screamed at by my reviewers. . .**

**Reviewers:** _have torches and pitchforks_** GET HER!**

**Me:** _cackling_** HAHAHAHAA!** _Running away

* * *

_

**1 Shee-ah-stay ah dee-ah-vee-ahnt.** Never hire me to come up with a new language. X.xU

**2 Koor-ah-hem **The Wenhenabulean combat game—like modern chess.

**3 Dee-ah-vee-ahnt ahs vee-ah-gohs **Now that's just pathetic. This is painful for me, and I'm writing it! Jeez, don't quit my day-job. . .

**4 Twoo-volee Vih-die-loose **Arrghh! I can't do this! This phrase is horrible! What am I smoking?

**5 **He's observing Seto at school, thus has no knowledge of Seth.

* * *

**Review Replies.**

**YingYang4-ever:** OK, Tomb-robbers don't dance . . . you of all people should know that. :)

**Chibineko:** I hope you're not 'boreded' anymore! Thank you very much for the praise :)

**Toonwater1:** lol :D :D No, of course I didn't overdo it! I stated the truth!

**Green Phantom Queen:** Strange doesn't even cover it :D

**Ching Sparkle Sparkle:** Thank you! (fun name, btw) :D

**Shadow dragon04:** Yay! A new face! Hi there! Thanks for reading! I'm glad you can envision what's going on—to me that shows excellence in the writing style—I'm very glad to know I can do that!

**Meowzy-chan:** Hee hee :) :D Thanks (lol)

**The only way you'll find out what happens next if every single one you review! Mwahahahahahahahaa! _gets speared by a pitchfork_ X.X**


	10. Prince Frog

**Well . . . the good news is I'm not dead!!**

**But . . . why do I get the feeling I will be shortly?? Hehe . . . please don't get mad at me! Eleventh grade is harder than I expected. Workload is rough!! But I won't bore you with excuses.**

**DOUBLE DIGITS!! YEAH!!!**

**Enjoy the chappie, and review!!

* * *

**

Chapter Ten

Seth crouched low behind the barrels, having momentarily eluded the dragon's senses, and thought up a plan of action.

Only nothing came to him. _'Dammit, what can I do?'_

The dragon, tired of waiting for it's prey to come out and play, decided to take matters into it's own claws. Unfurling it's gigantic red wings and taking flight, it circled around the yacht three of four times before it let out another of it's ear piercing cries and slammed into the side, causing Seth and all things present on the deck to lurch to the starboard side, which was presently underwater.

Seth, caught off-guard by the sudden pitch, gave a great curse when he suddenly found himself tumbling painfully across the deck, heading towards dark, churning water . . .

Cursing again, he stuck out his hands, trying to catch hold of something as he rolled by. Eventually, his right hand caught on one of the open portholes, and he let out a painful grunt as his momentum yanked hard on his body, almost making him slip. But he held on fast; his left hand joined his right and his knuckles turned white from the force of his grip.

Enraged to see it's initial attack fail, the dragon barreled into the side of the yacht once again, pushing it further and further from shore, and almost turning it completely upside-down from the force of the attack.

Gritting his heath, Seth held onto the edge of the porthole even tighter still, holding on for dear life as his body whipped around, the yacht rocking violently back and forth as repercussions of the second blow. Unfortunately, all the spare lines, the deck chairs and card table, and a few other items from down below were being pitched around too, and it was all Seth could do to avoid getting run over or tangled by one of them. As it was, broken glass from the earlier attack jumped around too, stinging his skin as they flew past.

The dragon, upon seeing its prey still attached to the porthole, let out another cry and whipped around for a further assault.

It swung it's three-spiked tail over the deck once more, aiming for Seth . . . Seth swore colorfully and immediately jumped away, just as the beast's tail impacted with a large smash, breaking that part of the deck in two.

Seth cringed. Hopefully, the boy he had rescued earlier was not down in that part of the yacht. As the tail lifted, he craned his neck to see down into the hole. No, he didn't see any blood smatters down there . . .

He looked up to the beast again, only to see the same tail he had just escaped from right in front of his face . . .

Seth yelled out and tried to dodge, but it was too near to successfully evade. The dragon got a direct hit, smashing its tail into the brunette with such force that he was thrown over the entire length of the yacht, and crashed into the water twenty feet away.

Coming up to the surface after what seemed like an eternity, Seth took gasping breaths, crying out in pain as his chest retaliated. He probably broke a few of his Hikari's ribs . . . or all of them . . .

Struggling against the strong current trying to pull him under, Seth rationalized the situation. _'Alright, now it is time for me to stop playing games and finish this,'_ he thought. Gathering a fair amount of Heka in his right hand, Seth took a deep breath and dove under the water, swimming downward far below the surface. Treading water to stay submerged, Seth waited.

'_Come on, bastard dragon . . . come and get me . . .'_

A few seconds passed, and then Seth heard a furious, somewhat-muffled roar before a large, scaly body came plummeting into the water, creating strong undertows that propelled Seth further away from the beast that had just joined him. When his body stopped spinning, Seth saw the dragon a fair distance away, swimming around trying to locate him. Seth smirked as well as he could under water. _'Now that you are in the water, you are doomed . . .'_

However, Seth gulped as he finally really noticed how large the damned thing was.

'_Can this strategy really work on such a large creature?'_

He had no choice. He didn't know where his Hikari had put the rod, and he couldn't summon any otherworldly beasts to aide him without it. _'Argh, Seto! If you would just listen to me once in a while and keep it on your person!—' _

He had no more time to dwell on it, for at that moment the dragon spotted him, and started racing towards him.

Seth brought his hands in front of him, the blue Heka light still floating about them. It was time, whether it would work or not . . . making a swift motion in a circle with his left hand, all the blue light flocked to the left index finger with a snap. Then, intertwining his left middle and left pointer fingers, and holding his remaining digits spread wide around the joined fingers, he called out in his mind:

**_Position _Sitta_: Lighting!! _**Concentrating, he clapped his left hand gently with his right.

Immediately, the blue light around his sixth finger started to crackle, it's very sustenance changing from that of a simple thin beam of light to something with much greater power and unpredictability—electricity itself. The form of the Heka warped from it's wispy glow until little blue lightning bolts flashed around his left pointer, looking quite as dangerous as their larger counterparts, but not affecting the caster in the slightest bit. While the Heka gained and stored potential energy, Seth aimed that finger at the ever-nearing reptilian creature, choosing to wait for the last possible second to strike the beast.

'_The more power I have, the better,'_ he thought shakily, as the dragon came almost upon him. It opened it's mouth to swallow him whole . . . the tips of his finger just barely brushed the dragon's scales—

'_NOW!'_ With a cry of pain, Seth released his mammoth amount of Heka upon the dragon; the lighting bolts quadrupling in size the moment they left the sanctity of Seth's brandished digit. He himself went lax with relief, grimacing as his muscles screamed in protest.

The bolts coursed through the dragon's body, searing and burning it's skin as it gave a great howl of pain and start thrashing around the in the water, it's movements sporadic and jolting as the electricity took it's course.

The dark ocean around the dying beast's body was lit up like the daylight sky from the light of the Heka, and Seth saw the entire path the dragon's body took as it sunk to the bottom of the sea, dead. And then, slowly, the glow flickered and faded, leaving the sea darker than before.

It was then Seth felt the searing pain in his chest—he needed air, and fast! But he had extended too much of his Ba with that last attack, and found himself too weak to even move his arms to swim.

'_D-dammit . . . I . . . need air . . .'_ Seth though groggily as he struggled to get even the slightest momentum to take him topside . . . but as he stared at the surface it only seemed to get farther away from his deadened body . . .

'_No . . . I'm . . . sinking . . .' _

Strangely, just as he reached the brink of oblivion, colors flashed brightly in his head; a stark blue and red . . . and he thought something was there . . . _something_ . . .

Those were the last confused thoughts the ancient priest had before his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he lost consciousness.

* * *

Malik Ishtal's head snapped up suddenly and startlingly, immediately swiveling to glance out of a small square window positioned just above his bed. His pale lavender eyes scanned the dusky skies; observantly, questioningly . . . 

"What . . . was that?"

He had sensed, while lounging on his bed reading a modern teen magazine, a great influx of Heka in the magical atmosphere that surrounded everything in this world, though invisible to but a select few. Abandoning his reading material, Malik rose; sitting up on his knees to gain a better view of the city. Still his eyes searched . . .

Everything living in the world had Heka, or magic. Heka was the same basic concept as a life- force—if a person was alive, they had Heka, and if they lacked it, they couldn't possibly hope to survive. The Ba is the soul; essentially what the life force, thus Heka, feeds off of. Magicians and priests were simply the ones that had perfected the exploitation of this life-force, turning it into a power that the human mind could control to perform small tasks for the user. However, such manipulation is like the manipulating of one's own soul—the more wasteful, the less soul that remains intact. It is a dangerous art, one that could _not_ be done by just anyone . . .

And yet, here in this city, someone had used a great deal of the stuff, and probably was worse-for-the-wear because of it, if they weren't dead already. But whoever it was, they had incredible power . . .

Malik left his bedroom in a hurry, going to seek out his sister. She had to have felt it . . . Malik wouldn't have been surprised if a normal, everyday citizen had felt it. _Such power_ . . . and that was never a good thing.

"Sister?" Malik entered the living room, only to find his sister in the position he himself had been in just a few moment's ago; sitting by the window, staring out into the gray city with a look of pensiveness on her face.

"Sister, did you feel that, just now?" He inquired, curious about the solemn look on her delicate face.

"Yes," she answered simply, continuing to stare out the window. Malik, used to her distantness by now, went and joined her side.

"Whoever just expended that Heka has an enormous amount of the stuff," Malik voiced his thoughts aloud, and his sister nodded. But she said nothing, so Malik continued. "I didn't recognize the life force as belonging to anyone we know . . . and I don't think that's a good thing."

"No," she answered simply again, and this time Malik knew more than her misty personality was at work. Something was bothering her.

"What is it, Isis? Speak to me—what is the matter?" What boded ill for a prophetess boded ill for the entire world.

"Where is your rod, brother?"

Malik was taken aback by her question. "What?"

Her tone was sharp, now. "The Millennium Rod. Your family heirloom. An object of massive strength, which boosts the life-force of the one who wields it. Where is it?"

Malik inwardly grimaced. Oh, crap. He was in trouble now . . .

"Well . . . it's funny you should mention that . . ." He laughed nervously.

Isis's tone remained ridged. "Malik . . . ."

The said Ishtal swallowed thickly. "Well, you see—"

"_Malik _. . ."

Her warnings got the better of him. Taking a gulp of air, he hurriedly told her how he had disposed of the rod the day after his terrible dream; and of his regrets—but then he told her of his relief when he'd seen it safe within the Pharaoh's grasp, and realizing it was safe. He told her there was nothing to worry about.

At the end of his tale, the prophetess thought the situation over carefully, reflecting on every detail her brother had supplied.

"I see . . . the Pharaoh had it last, you said? Well then, that certainly explains this . . ."

Ignoring her brother's confused protests, Isis stood up and exited the room; knowing her brother was not—nor ever would be—brave enough to follow her when she was in these sorts of moods. She welcomed it, actually. It appeared she had a lot of work to do . . .

'_So you are back . . . Seth . . .'

* * *

_

Groggy blue eyes opened wearily as their owner regained consciousness, groaning in pain as he did so. His whole body was on fire . . . what had happened?

'_Doctor Kishimoto, ward three; Doctor Kishimoto, ward three.'_

What? Where was he? Blinking, he could just make out blurry white ceiling panels past the end of his nose.

_Uh-oh._ He'd know that ceiling anywhere . . .

"Well, well—_look who's awake_!"

The sarcastic snarl to his left roused the C.E.O fully; he turned his head on the pillow to glance in the direction the voice had come from.

A pissed-looking Osawaga Jr. lay on the bed next to him, his right arm and leg bound heavily in casts, and red-stained gauze bandaging wrapped around his head. A needle connected to a machine was lodged in his arm, and he had many bruises littering his tanned skin. In short, he looked a little under the weather.

And, as Seto swiveled his gaze on himself, he noticed _he_ wasn't doing so well either. His torso was wrapped in gauze and was in a brace, and he had apparently broken his right wrist. Large purple and blue blemishes littered his significantly paler skin, and a needle was stuck in his arm, too.

"What . . . on earth . . . happened?"

"Heh! What indeed?" The nasty snarl was back, bringing Seto back to the monotonous, white reality. He was in the hospital, again.

"Dammit . . ."

"So, Seto—lead any clandestine _fairy-tale_ lives, do you?" Seto's eyes went wide. Had Osawaga actually seen the dragon? He thought he'd been unconscious at the time!! Not sure how to explain, Seto remained silent. Osawaga continued in that mock-innocent tone; "Do you secretly live in some . . . some _parallel universe_ right out of a storybook?" Seto inwardly cringed.

'_Well, he's getting closer . . .'_ he thought ironically, thinking of the Shadow Realm. Yet he still said nothing.

"Hell, if my sister _kisses_ you, will you turn into a fucking _frog prince?!"_ Osawaga's sardonic tone and ridiculous questions were starting to get on Seto's nerves, and ruining his already-turning-sour mood. He turned away from the black-haired boy, purposefully ignoring him.

"Don't . . . you . . . _dare_," Osawaga hissed in response, but Seto didn't listen. Osawaga was about to add another nasty comment, when all-of-a-sudden a bright and cheery nurse entered the hospital room.

"Good morning, gentleman! I am glad to see you both awake, at last. Mr. Kaiba! How are you feeling?"

Kaiba's only answer was his narrowed eyes and his sour expression. The nurse sweat dropped. "Alright then, how are _you_ feeling, Mr. Osawaga?"

Osawaga pouted like a little child on his hospital bed. "Like freaking _Cinderella_, actually," he muttered out, glaring at the ceiling tiles. "That over there is Prince Charming," he said, nodding in Seto's direction, "and _you_ can be Thumbelina. How does that sound?"

The nurse was absolutely, utterly confused. Seto just scoffed.

"Nurse . . . there's a buzzing sound in my ear . . . I think there's a fly in here . . ."

A horrified, melodramatic gasp is what he received for the comment. "E-excuse me?! You're not the one that just got attacked by an imaginary _fairytale_ creature!! You're not the one who just found out someone he knew is an _elf,_ or a _frog prince_—or whatever the hell you think you are!! "

Seto, angered and slightly embarrassed having these accusations thrown at him in public, shot back, "I don't know what the hell you're talking about! Nurse, I think you should tend to him—he's hit his head harder than I thought."

Osawaga flipped, nearly jumping up from his bed in his animation. "NO!! Don't you **_dare_** pin this off on me!! Don't make excuses!! I _know_ what I saw!!! A freaking make-believe DRAGON attacked and destroyed my father's yacht!!" He broke off when he noticed the withering stares being given to him by the nurse and Seto. He became desperate. "NO!! I _KNOW_ WHAT I SAW!! I'M NOT MENTAL!!!"

The nurse, holding in snorts of laughter at Osawaga's obvious brain damage, went over to the distressed teen. "Now, now, Osawaga-san . . . you need to rest. I'm sure whatever things you have to . . . discuss . . . can wait until later," she said amusedly.

Osawaga deflated miserably, knowing how crazy he sounded at the moment and realizing no one would believe him. He let the nurse guide him to a resting position. "That's it. . ." she soothed, patting Osawaga on the gauze-wrapped head. "Let me change those bandages. . ."

The nurse preformed several medical tasks, and then left the room to get more bandages. "I'll be calling your father, too," she warned the black-haired boy, and then disappeared behind cream-colored door to their room.

Silence reigned, and then Osawaga's voice called out to his roommate again, surprisingly calm. "Now that she's gone, would you care to explain to me what really happened? I know what I saw," he repeated. His tone was just the right combination of accusing and upset to make Seto sigh resignedly.

"Not right now."

Man, this was tiring. Three months ago, he doubted he would be even be _thinking_ the term 'magic;' yet here he was, accepting what had just happened without so much as a second thought. _'Seth must be having an impact on me after all . . .'_

Osawaga's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Well, at least tell me this: was it a dragon? Did a dragon just attack us? Or am I delusional?"

Seto sighed again. "No, you are right. It was a dragon. Though what it was doing in this world, I don't know . . ."

Osawaga's weak chuckles floated lazily around in the still air of the hospital room. "I feel like I'm in some sort of manga comic . . . dragons, parallel worlds—what next, actual _magic_?"

"Yes, actually," Seto supplied lazily, distant in his thoughts. He didn't like this one bit. What had a dragon been doing in the mortal land in the first place? They couldn't just _escape_ the Shadow realm, could they? They had to be summoned, if Seto understood the concept as well as he thought he did.

That meant something, or _someone_, had sent it. And, going out on a limb by saying Osawaga wasn't a person of any magical prowess; he suspected that the dragon had been after _him_.

'_More likely Seth,'_ he concluded. Damn, this was going to be a bother . . .

"Magic? Pssht, you're crazy. I don't believe in that sort of thing." Osawaga scoffed.

"Then there was no dragon, and you _have_ gone mental," Seto threw back evenly.

Osawaga apparently didn't have a comment to that. Silence reigned for another moment, and then the black-haired boy groaned.

"Oh, man . . . that was my father's most expensive yacht! He'll have my head, for sure!"

"Your own fault," Seto stated colorlessly.

"It was not! Your brother's the one that hired me, don't forget!! I got paid to take you out on a cruise!! So, it's really all that imp's fault!!"

Seto's pensive thoughts were being disrupted by anger again. "Don't talk about my brother like that!"

"Hey—you know what? Just pay me back for the damages to my yacht and I'll call it even. How's that?"

Seto scoffed. "Not on your life."

"What? It was your fault my father's yacht sunk, so pay me back for it!"

"NO! Pay for it yourself, you damn moocher," Seto spat irately. Osawaga visibly started to sweat.

"No, seriously—you have no idea how pissed-off my dad will be when he finds out I stole his private yacht and _sunk_ it," he cried desperately, trying to appeal to Seto's sense of sympathy.

Sympathy that was, unfortunately, nonexistent. "No."

Osawaga abandoned asking nicely, and shouted, "FINE! Get used to seeing me around, then, for once my father kicks me out of the house I'll follow you around, _day after day, night after night_, until I get my money back!!"

"You do and I'll kill you," Seto warned.

"YEAH? YOU JUST TRY, ASSWIPE!!"

"I'LL DO MORE THAN JUST TRY, YOU NEANDERTHAL!"

And this, quite tragically, was the scene the nurse walked into yet again, and she spent the rest of the night trying to stop the throwing of insults and other things between the two childish billionaires.

'_They better tip big,'_ she thought angrily as she dodged yet another tongue depressor. _'Very big.'

* * *

_

"AAAARRRGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!"

There was another large explosion as a furious Zsita flung spell after spell in random directions, destroying half of the Shiaste a Diaviente in his wake. The remaining servants ran out screaming, fearing for their lives as the south wall collapsed completely; bringing down part of the ceiling with it.

As the walls came crashing down around him, the blue-haired prince finally ceased his spell-casting, breathing heavily and glaring murderously at his handiwork.

"How could Gale Lizard have lost?!" He screamed, pacing back and forth over the ruins of the once-intact temple. "How could my beast have lost to the likes of _Seth_?!"

He stopped his pacing, and breathed in deeply. "I must calm myself . . . and think rationally about the situation. So it appears that Seth has become stronger since I last saw him . . . I need to stop dwelling on it and formulate another plan."

Going over to the north wall, which was relatively still intact from his little 'tantrum,' his narrow copper eyes started scanning the rows of tablets facing him, running a strategy through his intelligent head. . .

'_I'll get my revenge, Seth, if it's the last thing I do. . .'_

"Master Zsita?"

Zsita turned, his hateful copper eyes boring holes into the servant that had remained behind during his episode; waiting for something else to be said.

The servant visibly started to sweat. "M-my Lord? Will you send another beast after him?"

Zsita turned back to the tablets mounted on the wall, thoughtfully.

"No. Let Seth swallow what has just taken place, and observe how he responds." He suddenly smiled poisonously. "I've made my move; now it's his turn. . . ."

'_What will you do, old friend?'

* * *

_

**Please Review!!**


	11. The Soul Room

**It's been a long time. My inspiration and exigence for writing YuGiOh stories has officially dried up, and I am not sure how long I can keep writing them. With other stories so much more popular and fun to write, I barely have time to move onto my less desired stories.**

**But I'll tell you what. I'm not a cruel author; if there comes a time when this story is simply impossible to continue, I will definetly post a synopsis so those of you who are still with me can know the rest of the storyline.**

**However, that's for things unknown in the future. As of right now, I'm still writing this, so enjoy it. Please leave comments, for the more people who do, the longer this story remains updated.**

* * *

_Beep ... beep ... beep ..._

Seto Kaiba tapped his fingers idly in rhythm to his heart monitor, staring up at the dark ceiling tiles of his hospital room boredly. _God_ he hated hospitals …

Sighing, his head tilted to the side to take in the sight of his fellow inmate, Osawaga Jr., who was snoring softly over in the next bed, clutching his papery pillow like a child would clutch a stuffed bear.

'_Sorry, Osawaga …'_

"Don't feel sorry for the likes of him, Hikari …"

Startled, Seto whipped his head over to the other side to see the translucent form of his mind's tenant hovering near his bedside. The appearance of the spirit was sudden and unexpected—Seto hadn't seen hide or hair of Seth since the dragon incident.

"Seth … why do you say that?"

Seth eyes were trained on Seto, but they were unseeing as his mind slipped into a thoughtful fog.

"He … he was untruthful to you … he carried you off on that large ferry of his without your consent … thus he is to blame for you getting hurt," he stated angrily. Seto's eyes widened a small fraction, surprised at the loathing Seth held in his voice.

'_Was he … worried about me?'_

Seto found his voice. "Well, I hardly blame him for all this … how could he have known? It was so unexpected … what is a dragon doing roaming around free in this world anyway? Doesn't it have to be … summoned, or something?"

Seth nodded gravely. "For a Shadow Realm monster to be able to live and battle in this world, it must be transported here by a magician's magic. No exceptions."

Seto's expression became more serious. "That means … that the dragon is the _least_ of our problems …"

Seth's look suddenly became dry. "Oh, so _now_ you're willing to admit we have a problem? The _other_ times I mentioned our 'problems' did not count for you? You had to have _proof_? Well, I hope you are quite _satisfied_ now, Hikari. Your 'proof' nearly killed us both!!"

Seto hushed his other self. "Shut up, dammit!! Not so loud! Are you forgetting where we are?" Seto stole a quick glance at the sleeping male in the next bed, assuring himself that he was still asleep. When his fears were alleviated, he turned back to the vexed spirit. "Now, quietly, please explain to me what the hell happened? And what are we going to do about it?"

Seth sighed, crossing his arms and half-turning away from the injured boy on the bed. "The dragon was a monster from the Realm of Shadows, no doubt about that … and, as previously stated, the only way it could have gotten into this world is by a magician's summoning. Which means, as you have guessed, there is a magician somewhere out there who has it in for you, Hikari. You haven't insulted any magicians lately, have you?" His tone was dry again. Seto's expression fell into one of contempt.

"Decidedly not," He ground out with a perfect imitation of the priest's dryness.

Seth sighed, perching up on the headboard of Seto's bed. When he spoke again, it was gravely; without sarcasm. "Well, then, your path is clear, Hikari. You have resisted me up until now, but I think we can both agree that the situation has changed, and we must act before another attempt on our lives is made.

"Seto, you must learn Heka."

Seto tried to argue. In fact, he would have liked nothing better than to retort in his usual callous way; to tear the idea down so viciously that Seth would never mention it again. The thought still was ludicrous to the teenage billionaire—to take time off of work to learn magic?! Little parlor tricks that were most likely illusions to trick the eyes and confuse the senses?! He was a logical man, and every fiber of his being urged him to laugh snidely in the priest's face and dismiss the idea.

But then … Mokuba's face flashed in his mind. What if he had been on the yacht with Osawaga and himself when the dragon had attacked them? When Seto had fallen; what would have become of his little brother? When his precious older brother, his role model, had failed to protect him … what would happen then?

Seto looked down at his hands. "I …" His voice was thick in his throat as Mokuba's smiling face danced around in his head. "I … am weak, aren't I?"

Seth looked grimly down upon his descendant, into the pleading blue eyes that asked him to hold nothing back; to not soften his reply to spare his feelings. There was a desire for truth in those eyes, and Seth would not be so ignorant as to disobey his Hikari's wishes. And so he revealed the truth—the cold, naked truth.

"Yes … you are."

"Then there is no other way …?"

"No."

Seto sighed. "I see. Then it is decided." Those eyes once again found Seth's; this time alight with a determination and seriousness that had not been present before. "Make me stronger, Seth!"

A wide grin split the High Priest's face; he raised the Millennium Rod, and sharp, blue light burst from the end, filling the hospital room with a light so piercing it blinded; Seto shielded his eyes and grunted out in shock and pain as there was a rushing sound, like the beating of a dragon's wing … the blue light intensified … Seto had to shut his eyes, his retinas burning—

And then all was still.

◙ ◘ ◙ ◘ ◙ ◘ ◙ ◘ ◙ ◘ ◙ ◘ ◙ ◘ ◙ ◘ ◙ ◘ ◙ ◘ ◙ ◘ ◙ ◘ ◙ ◘ ◙ ◘ ◙ ◘ ◙ ◘ ◙ ◘ ◙ ◘ ◙ ◘ ◙ ◘ ◙ ◘

The light and sound had seemed to vanish all at once; Seto swiftly opened his eyes and was utterly shocked to find the hospital room he had only just been lying in gone. There was no Osawaga, no uncomfortable hospital bed, and no beeping heart monitor. In fact, to be stated more accurately, there was nothing—just a vast expanse of dusty whiteness; a shade like the corners of a pure-white room, overcast in shadows. It was neither warm nor cool in that place, and seemed to have no dimensions; if Seto continued off in one direction, he felt as if he would never stop.

"Where … am I?"

"A place that is the physical representation of your soul … your 'soul room,' in other terms," said a distasteful voice behind him. Seto started and turned around sharply around to face Seth, who was looking around the place with an expression like he had just smelled something unpleasant.

"Soul room? Wait, Seth, are _you _responsible for this?!"

Seth gave his other another one of his dry looks. "Certainly you were not foolish enough to think we had time enough to wait …? We must begin your Heka lessons at once, for we are at a disadvantage in this war. Our enemy is on the move, and there is no telling when or where he will strike next. We must be prepared."

Seto looked around the vast expanse of nothingness around him with exasperated confusion. "Here?"

Seth turned away from him and walked several paces forward. "Here is as good a place as any." He still had that repulsive tone to his voice.

"You certainly don't make it sound like a good place to be," Seto argued, miffed for a reason that he couldn't identify.

Seth whirled around, and Seto was alarmed at the anger burning in his eyes. "I do not approve of your soul room, Seto!! It is too empty!! Your soul is in ill health, Hikari, and before we precede any further I demand to know why you haven't been taking care of yourself properly!!"

Seto had been shocked into speechlessness. He stared at his other self blankly for a moment, blinked, and then his expression fell into one of defensive anger. "Are you calling me soulless? Are you accusing me of being a heartless bastard?"

Seth shook his head vigorously at Seto's misunderstanding. "Hikari, if your soul was black then your soul room would certainly reveal it. But this," he indicated the space around them; "this is something else entirely!! A soul room is meant to reflect the beliefs, ideas, and actions of its owner; to showcase their personality and their state of mind. But this," he repeated, "This is … something else entirely!!"

Listening to Seth's explanation, Seto's eyes wandered around the nothingness that was apparently his soul. "So you've said. But what exactly do you mean by that?"

Seth's anger left him, and instead a pitying look crossed his features. "A soul room reflects the owner's personality … but your room reflects nothing, Seto. Your beliefs, your ideas, your actions … they are someone else's, and not your own. Something has forced you to change the way you think and feel … and I demand to know what that something was!!"

Seto didn't need to think about his answer; in fact, he was trying desperately to make the answer go away. He had sworn a long time ago that he would never utter that man's name again …

"I don't know what you're talking about, and I couldn't care less. Let's move on, shall we? After all, we are behind—you said it yourself," Seto evaded smoothly, crossing his arms.

Seth could sense the subject-dodging, but, with a fleeting irritated look, decided to let it go. He was, after all, correct. They had a lot of work to do … he could always get his answers later.

"Very well, Hikari. I will allow this topic evasion, but do not think this conversation is over! We will resume it soon enough," Seth warned, and then settled himself and tucked away his anger. "Fine then. And now we begin."

* * *


End file.
